The Choices We Make
by Snape's Nightie
Summary: Once the war is over, Severus decides to have a baby. In a very Slytherin way. Sequel to Secrets of an Insignificant Slytherin. MPREG. Non HBP compliant.
1. Decisions, decisions

I wasn't intending to do a sequel to "Secrets of an Insignificant Slytherin", but this idea has been bothering me for a while now. Some people may find Severus' conduct immoral, selfish or distasteful, but that's what we love about him, isn't it? I'm not suggesting that he is right, nor that anyone should do the same. As ever, opinions expressed by characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author x

…….

Forget about joining Voldemort, defecting to the Order of the Phoenix, starting or leaving his job at Hogwarts or any of that old stuff, this was without question the biggest decision of Severus Snape's life.

He was finally allowed to make his own choices, with no interference from anyone else, and as this was such a vitally important matter, he was taking his time. It felt glorious.

He was going to have a baby. More than that, he was consciously choosing to have a baby, after a few years of preparation – sorting out a house, finances, finding a part-time job where he could work from home – he was ready and absolutely certain this was the perfect moment to do what he wanted to do.

Ideally, he would be able to get impregnated by some random stranger and live all alone with a house elf, clutching the child (whom he already worshipped with a passion, though it had not yet been conceived) possessively to his chest and never letting anyone or anything take him of her away, or even touch them. Knowing that this was probably not the best for the baby, however, he had grudgingly accepted that it would be better for all if he knew the other father. And it would have to be a good man. Good, in ways that Severus could never be. He should be sociable, pleasant, personable, well-liked – all the things that Snape was not, in order to make sure the child would be able to fit into a world that its carrier had never understood. Also, it was not impossible that Severus would be killed by some disaffected free Death Eater or other lunatic because of his treacherous part in Voldemort's downfall, and he would not countenance the idea of his poor orphaned boy or girl being sent to live with strangers – look at the Dark Lord, look at Potter! No.

Though it was painful to admit, whomever he chose would have to be part of the little one's life, to some extent. He would not have to be particularly close to Severus, in his experience, most people went to great lengths to stay away from him as far as possible. Just a drunken one-night-stand would suffice, he hoped, then a few months later he could make a firecall and drop the bombshell, feigning shock and bewilderment. If he chose well, an honourable wizard would offer what assistance he could, then support and guide the child as it grew, taking it on fun outings and doing all the things he himself was hopeless at. But the baby would still belong to him. He was planning on loving him or her so much that the bond between them would be unbreakable, even if it had to stretch now and then through the difficult times.

Applying his scientific logic to this most emotive of issues, Severus made a list.

He will be:

1) A good person. Honourable, kind etc.

2) A person with many friends who will befriend, and socialise with the child.

3) Possessed of all the qualities which I lack (charm, wit, humour etc).

4) A wizard, most definitely (pref. not a muggleborn, but not necessarily).

5) Someone I will be able to seduce, with or without potions.

6) Intelligent (baby will NOT be like Longbottom).

7) Someone without unexpected skeletons in cupboard. I must know about his past.

Bonuses:

1) Attractive, with small or medium-sized nose.

2) Not a Death Eater, vampire, werewolf, Hufflepuff, redhead or Welshman.

3) Good at Quidditch.

4) Stop getting carried away, Severus.

A sudden attack of conscience told him he was being very selfish, but hell, he had been a puppet for other people all his life. For once he wanted to be in charge, to have his own way, to get what he wanted. The Slytherin side of his brain noted that really, he was doing the other man a favour in bearing a child for him.

But whom could it be? Looking back over the list, he realised grimly that he had ruled out everyone in the world. Oops. He was being too fussy. But dammit, he had a right to be choosy. This was his baby's other father, it was important. He must not rush the decision. What he needed was another brainstorming list.

Wizards I know:

1) Dumbledore – most powerful wizard in world, but would see through my scheme in two seconds flat. Also baby may turn out more like mad uncle Aberforth. And scratchy beard. No.

2) Flitwick – no.

3) Shacklebolt – perfect except for dreadful debilitating injuries, poss. also impotent thanks to Bella's nasty curse.

4) Draco – no, no no. Is like son to me. Could not possibly. No.

5) Weasleys – no. Mischievous, ginger, tendency towards multiple births.

6) Potter – very thought making me feel ill. But is most famous wizard in world, powerful, loyal, dutiful, young and fit for running around after toddler. Hates me as much as I hate him. No.

7) Hardtbrind – even less sociable than me. Would not tear himself away from cauldron for long enough. Geek. No.

8) Zabini – high rates of squibbage, gout and insanity in family. Has also approached me for potions to sure variety of STDs, the slut.

9) Westwood-Booth – has been chasing me for years, can't stand the freak, no.

10) Lupin – werewolf, irritating, curse of my life, reason first baby died. But loyal, pleasant, kind, well-liked, honest, no other family to cause distraction, looks at me with hint of lust near full moon, good nose, clever, charming, takes orders, loves children, powerful wizard, cute in scruffy kind of way…

Severus threw down his quill. He didn't like where this was leading, but he was running out of options. He really hated the idea of a total stranger though. He continued Lupin's attributes.

Can't fly for shit, worships the Potter brat, poor… he paused, remembering the bestselling war memoir he had written the previous year, a copy of which was now in every wizarding home and library in the country, and probably the world. Pah. He crossed out 'poor' and replaced it with 'comfortable'.

Severus had been a scientist for most of his life, and trusted that a logical set of results always lead one to a logical conclusion, however, the left hand side of his brain was jumping up and down, screaming obscenities at the right's heartless decision. The right hand side would have sneered if it could, and asked the left if it had any better suggestions. Lucius was dead. He loved no one now. Lupin would be a good father. It was the only choice.

Damn.

……


	2. Atomic

Disclaimer: Not mine, Jo's. All hail Jo x.

When the second war ended, Remus had thrown himself headfirst into writing his memoir. It had forced him to relive some of the worst times of his life and address issues he would rather have forgotten about, but after reading some of the twisted nonsense written in the Prophet he had believed it was his duty to set the record straight. Everyone had encouraged his efforts, even suggesting that exploring his demons so thoroughly might prove therapeutic. The book was a great success. It had been well received by his friends and the world at large, and had made him a lot of money. But the pain had not lessened, in fact, now devoid of any useful task and outed to the public as a werewolf, Remus was more depressed than ever before.

At first, he had lived for Harry's frequent visits, enjoying long chats and card games with the amiable young hero and feeling as though life still held a purpose for him. Then suddenly, Harry had refused to meet his eyes and started making excuses to avoid him, talking about trivial subjects and even dousing himself in cologne to prevent the werewolf from scenting his emotions. Remus had been deeply hurt. Then he had stared to panic. Harry had somehow found out about those evil, dirty feelings he had been harbouring for years. The powerful sensations of love and lust which had gnawed away at his soul since his best friend's baby boy had been fifteen. Oh Merlin, he was a filthy pervert and deserved Azkaban for this. He would never dream of telling Harry how he felt, it would end their close friendship which Remus treasured, but he longed to hold him, touch him and comfort him. Evidently he had let something slip, and Harry had been disgusted. You sick freak, Remus Lupin, he chastised himself, he's far too good for the likes of you and now you've lost him completely.

Wallowing in misery, Remus' natural insomnia grew progressively worse, and it was not long before he began downing a few firewhiskies after his solitary supper in the hope of relaxing his tense muscles enough to sleep. He knew he was pathetic. He knew he was getting a little too attached to solitude and alcohol. But he had lost the only important thing in his life, Harry, his Harry. What did anything else matter?

He was already on his third glass when his miserable brooding was interrupted by an unexpected floo call one night.

"I apologise for disturbing you at this hour, Lupin, but I regret I must ask for a favour."

"It's not that late, Severus. What do you want?" He hoped he didn't sound as drunk as he felt. What was Snape doing here? A favour? He mentally scoffed at the idea. As if he could ever be useful again! He was a drunken wreck, and any minute now the sneers and taunts would begin.

"It is rather delicate I am afraid. If you find the request too insulting then you are at full liberty to refuse and I shall cease bothering you forthwith."

"Go on."

"An important potion I am brewing requires hair from the head of a werewolf. I did have an old vial of hair purchased in Knockturn Alley, but upon opening it this evening I found the seal broken and the contents corrupted. It is imperative that…" Remus interrupted him with a snort. Typical Severus, never one for social calls.

"Just take what you need," he said resignedly, beckoning Snape over. "If you look very hard you might find a brown one, but I doubt it."

Snape strolled over with his usual grace and titled his head forward, drawing a gasp from Remus. Severus' hair! He blinked, unable to believe his eyes. The smooth dark locks had lost their habitual greasiness and were now perfectly framing his angular face like a single sheet of pure black silk. Remus was captivated. Snape was standing inches away from him now, speaking in that low, gentle voice but he could no longer hear the words. Unable to resist, he reached up and ran his fingers through the shiny tresses, incredibly soft under his touch and smelling of a hundred different things, all deliciously arousing. He allowed himself to become lost in the giddy sensation of satin running through his fingers, until he felt the wolf awaken inside his head and start clamouring and trying to take charge of their body. It was taking a great deal of mental effort to control the beast. This hardly ever happened when the moon was not full, and it was never this powerful. His worrying thoughts dragged him back to Earth, and he realised with a jolt where his hands were.

Horrified at what he had been doing, Remus looked up into sparkling black eyes. He was going to get cursed. Severus was going to kill him on the spot. Oh Merlin.

"Remus," said Snape. One word, spoken so softly it was barely a whisper, but the tone of promise he used to speak the name flew straight to the ears of the baying wolf.

_Feels good! Smells good! _It growled in Lupin's mind. _Take him!_

"No!" shouted Remus' human consciousness, Severus hates us, he does not want this, Wolf - we cannot use our exceptional strength to force a someone who does not want to.

"No?" purred Snape with an adorable little pout, his arms snaking around the grey-haired man, holding him steady as the internal struggle made him dizzy and confused.

_Yes! _howled the wolf, overpowering the hesitant human part of his brain, grabbing hold of Severus and crushing their bodies together, claiming his mouth and tearing at his robes as desire gushed through every cell of both facets of Remus Lupin.

…….

Severus woke with an overbearing feeling of smugness. It worked every time. He had unleashed the Secret Weapon and it had done spectacularly well, as he knew it would. It took about two hours to achieve the effect, which he had discovered one silly drunken evening in Lucius' mother's bathroom, using an extra-strong medicated sebum-reducing hair lotion, a powerful freezing charm, two heated beauty wands, another freezing charm and a fixative balm. The amount of effort required meant he only did it on special occasions, but no male or female was able to resist him when his hair was so very sexy. There was no need for love potions or dark spells if he activated the Secret Weapon.

Turning to look at the face sharing his pillow he reflected that the old witches' tales concerning the sexual prowess and equipment of werewolves had been dead right, and he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Resting a hand on his lower abdomen, he wondered if he had managed to conceive already – it would be a few weeks before he was able to find out. He had better stay on good terms with Lupin in case he needed a repeat performance. In fact, while they were lounging together in bed, why not take advantage of morning arousal and have another go?

Lupin was stirring now. He blinked sleepily at Severus and smiled.

"Morning," he croaked, then his eyes scanned the dark wizard's neck and shoulders and his face fell. "Severus," he gasped, then stopped. Snape could not tell what he was thinking, but some kind of realisation was dawning on Lupin and it was clearly distressing him. Liquid was welling up in his eyes as he pulled down the sheet and ran his fingers over the bite marks, scratches and bruises he had inflicted on the pale flesh during the night. When he spoke again his voice was so contrite it was almost a whimper.

"I'm so sorry, oh Merlin, Severus, the wolf…" a single tear escaped down his cheek and Snape had to keep from snorting. Idiot werewolf. He gave Lupin his dirtiest smile and pulled him into a hug.

"You were an animal!" he whispered the compliment seductively. Now Lupin began actually sobbing and mumbling miserably against his neck.

"Ssso sorry, never lost control like that before, can usually subdue the wolf. Did I hurt you very much? Did you even want to…?" Merlin, but this beast could be stupid.

"Remus," he whispered gently, stroking his hand soothingly up and down his spine. "Do you really think I would allow anyone to do me harm?" Lupin sniffed and looked up in surprise.

"Bbut…" he stammered. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Did you enjoy last night?" He bit his lip and nodded guiltily at Severus. "As did I. Very much indeed."

Lupin still looked forlorn, but he had stopped snivelling and wiped his eyes.

"But I utterly dominated you! Ripped your clothes off and just had my way with you, biting and clawing and being really rough!" Severus allowed himself to blush, peeping up coyly through his dark eyelashes.

"I know," he said quietly, still stroking the other wizard's back and shoulders. "Lupin?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Do it again?"

…….

A/N: Thank you reviewers! I really hadn't intended to keep going with this fic, but it's so much fun to write I can't help it. May I reiterate that I have nothing against redheads or the Welsh, unlike Severus, who has managed to conquer his 'mudblood' prejudice but is still a long way from being a tolerant man. (I suspect the redhead thing may stem from having taught too many Weasleys).

Kyer – I know! Heh heh. Each of my Severus' are slightly different in their outlooks and experiences (the joys of playing god!)

Moondancer – Thanks! I figured he wasn't the sort of man to use a random selection process for something so important.


	3. Breaking News

Remus was sitting quietly in his kitchen, trying to figure out what on earth had happened the previous night. And again this morning. He was glad no one else was there to see his shell-shocked expression, or to try and make him explain the problem.

He had slept with Severus. This was unexpected, but not the problem. Neither was the problem the fact that Severus had looked attractive, had found him attractive that night when he had spent most of his life hating him, had enjoyed some very rough sex, or that he had been a spectacularly good lay. The problem was the wolf.

Remus was barely aware of the wolf within him when the moon was not full. There was a vague glimmer of presence at the back of his mind which he rarely noticed, it had never interfered with his human existence, nor tried to dominate his mind except when he transformed and his very humanity was relegated to a minor niggle at the edge of his lupine consciousness. So it had been distressing to wake up that morning and find that the wolf had taken over and had its way with Severus Snape, apparently gouging and biting him as it took him in its frenzy of animalistic lust. Of course, Snape had not understood his fear, could not possibly imagine that Remus had spent his whole life dreading the loss of his human soul to the power of the wolf, terrified of harming another. As far as Remus could tell, Severus just considered him to be a particularly passionate lover.

Remus was so deep in thought he had drunk three quarters of his coffee before he realised that the mug also contained a teabag. Frowning, he wandered dazedly over to the sink, where he placed the teabag on the draining board and dropped the cup into the bin. Could it have been a purely sexual instinct? he wondered. Did the wolf fancy Severus? Unlikely, as he had known him for thirty years now, and never shown interest before. Also Remus was deeply in love with Harry – getting goose pimples, heart palpitations and sweating if he stood too close – but had never had that kind of urge. What was happening to him? What if he did it again? He shuddered in horror at the idea of unleashing the furious lust of the beast on his precious Harry, and had to sit down.

Severus had told Remus he had enjoyed it, and he was definitely not a man to offer platitudes for the sake of making another feel better. In fact, he was the first to grumble about anything he disliked, but instead of complaining he had asked for more. Remus clung to the thought. He liked it. He had not been harmed. He had been aroused.

How odd that a man like Severus Snape, so stiffly formal, so proud and jealous of power should so love being dominated in bed. Remus allowed himself a small smile as a single flash of memory hit him – a little moan of desire from the depths of Severus' throat as he was flung onto Remus' bed to be ravished – then bizarrely, inside his head, he felt the wolf begin to purr.

…….

"OK, Harry James Potter, that's enough!"

"What? What are you talking about, Hermione?"

"What's the matter with you lately? Why are you acting so oddly whenever we mention Remus? And how long since you went to see him?"

"Nothing's the matter. I've been busy."

"So the fact that you're blushing…"

"Shut up, will you? It's…it's not important."

"Rubbish. Tell me."

"It's embarrassing."  
"I can keep a secret, you know. So stop running your hands through your hair and talk to me."

"Oh god. It's complicated. Where do I start?"

"Have you fallen out with Remus?"

"No! No. I've sort of developed this…"

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"  
"Promise. Cross my heart."  
"I've got this crush on Remus."

"Oh, Harry!"

"It's ridiculous. Well, no it's not, because he's an attractive man, but it's all so screwed up. I care about him so much, but he's like a father to me, and I want him to stay that way, I don't want to spoil our wonderful relationship by some disastrous affair. He's worth more to me than that."

"Does he know?"  
"No. And he can't know. I'm still a kid, and absolutely hopeless with romance. Hell, I don't even know if I'm really gay. And I'm certain he doesn't feel the same. Even if he did, I don't think it would work. So you see, I can't go leaping around declaring my feelings, when I don't even know what those feelings are."

"It looks like you're being very sensible about this, Harry. But he wrote to me, asking why you're avoiding him. He's upset. And I think he's started drinking again."

"Oh no! Why am I such an idiot? I just can't be around him too much, I'm scared I'll betray myself. He's very good at smelling things."  
"Hah! So that explains the killer cologne!"

"Not funny, Hermione. What do I do?"

"Talk to him"

"I can't do that!"

"He cares about you and he's very understanding. He'll be able to advise you, he's very good at things like this. He won't judge you."

"Voldemort's dead. Why is my life still such a mess?"  
"Everyone's is, sweetheart."

…….

For some reason, the muggle-borns described this sort of thing as an 'Oscar-performance'. Severus had no idea who this melodramatic Oscar person had been, but he was clearly some kind of legend of muggle acting, or possibly a politician, which was the same thing really. (A/N: It's election day today in the UK. I had to get up early to go and decide which of the lying scum seemed the least slimy. _Shudder_.) He practiced his look of confused alarm one last time before flooing to Lupin's house.

…….

There fireplace was flaring. Remus did not feel like entertaining guests, but levered himself up to answer it anyway. It had been seven months since his last comfortable conversation with Harry, and five months since that bizarre sexual encounter with Severus. Remus had been terrified of spending time with anyone in case the wolf should overpower him again, but fortunately, on the few occasions when he had been forced to socialise, nothing had happened. But how could he tell? It may happen at any moment, he told himself. Remus Lupin, you are a public menace, you should stay locked up, alone with your firewhisky and…

"Good Afternoon, Lupin. May I speak with you?"

Severus was there. He looked worried. Upset, even, as far as it was possible to tell on that composed countenance. Fortunately, the wolf remained dormant as he stepped into the room and Remus offered him a seat.

He sat, but remain on edge, wringing his hands in front of him and glancing nervously around the room, resting his eyes on everything in it except Remus. His hair was back to its normal state, but something else was different. Was it possible that the Slytherin had put on a little weight? He was definitely a little broader around the waist, his sharp face had gained an aspect of softness, and with it a hint of colour. All in all, he looked – and smelled - remarkably healthy. Remus, conscious of his own physical deterioration, felt a stab of jealousy, which he quickly tried to swallow. Clearly Snape was in some kind of trouble.

"Lupin. Ah. Something has happened."

"Are you all right, Severus?"

"Yes. Well, no, not exactly. But mostly. Yes. Ah."

This was most intriguing. Whatever this important thing was, it had robbed Severus of his eloquence, leaving him fearful and stammering like a first year Hufflepuff. And what was different about his scent? It jogged his memory in a way he could not place, he must have been using a particular potion ingredient which Remus had not smelled recently.

"Do try to relax. Can I get you a cup of camomile tea, perhaps? Or something stronger?"

"No. No thank you, Lupin. But you may wish to serve yourself." Remus was confused now. This mystery concerned him as well as Snape.

"Tell me," he insisted. The darker wizard took a deep breath to steady himself, and began to explain.

"You are aware that upon occasion it transpires that a pure-blooded wizard is able to bear a child?"

"Yes, I remember reading it somewhere," Remus frowned. "It's an extremely rare phenomenon, though. Some kind of quirk of magibiology as a result of too much interbreeding?"

"Not much is written about it. The most convincing theory I have heard is that it began as a side-effect from a dark fertility spell once used by a particular English nobleman in the thirteenth century, when it appeared the family line was dying out. Very little is known for definite as the men in question only discover their ability if they happen to be active homosexuals, and I suspect that most cases are kept secret and never come to light."

"Prejudice is still alive and well within the wizarding aristocracy, I suppose," Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "So what does this have to do with you?" Snape lifted his head, looking Remus directly in the eye for the first time since his arrival.

"It would appear that I am one such wizard."

It took Remus' brain a moment to process what he was being told. When it drew its conclusion, it immediately discounted it and started again, demanding new information.

"Severus, you're pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell. That's incredible!"

"Yes."

"And the…er…other father?"

Severus merely raised an eyebrow. Remus' jaw dropped open and spots danced at the edges of his vision. Gripping the arms of the chair in order to stay upright, he rapped out the question with more force than he intended;

"Me?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible. A father? Me?"

"There is no other candidate."

"Shit."  
"Quite."

"Are you sure, Severus? I mean, there couldn't have been a mistake with the testing potion?"

"No. When the healer I consulted had discounted every other possible reason for my recent nausea and increased appetite, we performed four tests. A diagnostic spell and two different types of potion. I only believed the consistent positive results when he activated the hologrammatical scan, revealing a three-dimensional image of the baby inside me. Our baby."

Remus sank back in his chair, overcome. Disbelief, fear, resentment, and confusion bubbled through his mind as he mutely watched Severus cross the room to the drinks cabinet, pour a large measure of whiskey and carefully place it in his hand. Remus downed it in one gulp, and realised with annoyance that rather than helping matters, it had only added 'fuzziness' to the churning cauldron of feelings inside him. Snape was standing by the fireplace now, ready to leave after dropping his bombshell.

"Lupin, I understand that you did not choose this situation. I merely came here to inform you of the facts. I am capable of raising this child alone if necessary, with the assistance of my healer and house-elf. You may choose your level of involvement, if any, when you have had chance to digest the information. Contact me at anytime you wish."

And he was gone.

…….

Once home, Severus sank into his sofa and pulled his legs up underneath him, gently stroking the bump which was his tiny baby. The mysterious Mr. Oscar could not have done better, he thought. Poor Lupin, he looked so dishevelled nowadays, and was obviously drinking too much. But he would be delighted with the child once he got over his shock, Severus estimated an hour and a half would be enough. Fatherhood would instil a new sense of purpose into the werewolf – he seemed to have burnt out after finishing his book, and it was a waste, really, to have a brave and intelligent mind like that festering and idle. The child gave a little wriggle in agreement (or so Severus decided).

"Yes, he will love you very much," he assured the bulge tenderly. "He is that sort of person. He will be here any moment, begging to be allowed to act like a Daddy to you. Now we must be nice to him. He is a hopeless Griffindor and will never be as clever as us, but that is not his fault and we must not hold it against him. Now, my treasure, what shall we have for our afternoon snack? We enjoyed the anchovy cake yesterday. Perhaps it would be even better if we added some plum jam? What do you think?" Kick. "Yes, I thought so too."

Severus had polished off a huge cake, half a raw cabbage, a pint of iced carrot juice and was eating straight out of the jam jar with a teaspoon when there was a knock at the front door. Checking his pocket-watch he smugly noted that eighty-four minutes had passed since he arrived home.

"Master Snape, sir, a Remus Lupin is wanting to see you. Is you at home to callers?" asked the house-elf.

"Show him in please, Pip," said Severus, letting his robe fall open to exaggerate the bump and making no attempt to stop picking at the jam.

Lupin had shaved, changed his clothes and tidied his hair since Severus had left him sitting dazedly on the tatty armchair at home. As he entered the kitchen, his step was tentative, but his face was radiant with delight.

Perfect, thought Severus to himself. The baby gave a hearty wriggle .

…….

…….

A/N: What a gorgeous set of reviewers you are! Thank you so much for saying such nice things, and I'm glad you're enjoying this fic, I am enjoying it too! Well done to anyone who noticed the significance of the title of the previous chapter (SN rushes off to don sparkly disco-punk outfit) x

Oya – You're right, he was the only choice! As for Harry/Remus developments…you'll have to wait and see! In the HP fic-verse, anything can happen (and it frequently does).

Social Twist – Originality is difficult when there are more than 180,000 stories about the same sets of characters, so I'm really glad you think I've come up with a new one (OK, that opens the floodgates for a hundred 'designer baby' enthusiasts to shoot me down!) Thank you, and I'm enjoying your "Impossible Struggle" lots.

Quaxo – Glad you think it's funny, I do too. You are right, there are much worse things in this world than using someone for their sperm, and Severus deserves to get his own way for once. Let's hope the kid forgives him when it grows up…

i & Lucidity – Haven't decided either way yet! Glad you like.

Toni – "Insignificant Slytherin" was the saddest thing I had ever written, but oddly, the most enjoyable! I am weird. I kept this fic separate as I think they have two very different tones. Severus' past was bleak, but I hope you agree the future is shaping up nicely.

Kyer – Severus learned Manipulation Studies under the 2 finest teachers in the wizarding world, of course he's good at it! Hee hee.

Arnyekmester, Vampiricshewolf, Trin, April – Thank you for your encouragement. You are clearly well brought up readers of exquisite taste (curtseys) x


	4. Significant Secret

An elderly wizard with a long white beard and electric blue spangly robes was being forcibly ejected from Madame Puddifoot's tearoom. The residents of Hogsmeade barely batted an eyelid at the commotion, for the sight had become a common one over the last few years. The proprietress smacked the venerable old man around the head with her handbag one last time, before hitching up her ample bosom and huffily retreating back inside.

Albus Dumbledore grinned to himself. She was just playing hard to get. She would give in one day.

Since his retirement from his duties as headmaster, Supreme Mugwump, great figurehead for the Forces of Good and all of that balderdash, Albus had decided to make a full-time career of his favourite pastime – being a barmy old codger. 'Cosy Toes' the wizarding world's only specialist sock emporium was, unsurprisingly, located right next door to Honeyduke's sweet shop, and the small sign in the window proclaimed the opening times as "whenever I feel like it, ladies and jellyspoons". His day now consisted of leisurely breakfasts, mid-morning treats, hearty lunches in the Three Broomsticks, perhaps a few hours working in his beloved shop in the afternoon, composing letters of complaint to the Daily Prophet about irrelevant nonsense, followed by tea, cake and an ignoble exit from the divine Madame Puddifoot's, then dinner with one of his many friends all over the world. Yes, Dumbledore was thoroughly enjoying life.

"And take that feathery fleabag with you!" Madame Puddifoot emerged from the tea-shop once more, poking Fawkes out of the door with a silver cakeslice. The phoenix's squawks of protest were somewhat muffled by a beakful of chocolate ice cream. "If I catch him in my chilled cupboard again I'm barbecuing the pair of you!"

"He gets a little overheated sometimes, dear lady!" Albus defended his familiar.

"Well, buy him a paddling pool then!" she screeched, "And while you're at it, one for yourself as well!" Brandishing the cakeslice at his long nose as a final threat, she flounced away.

Back at Cosy Toes, Albus settled himself into his armchair, preparing for a nice little nap following the exertion of the afternoon. Fawkes was swinging upside-down on his perch, whistling a popular tune he had heard on the WWN and taken a particular shine to, a trifle over-excited as a result of too much sugar.

"Must you continue making that dreadful din?" Dumbledore asked lamely, already knowing the answer. Fawkes glared at him with considerable impudence and began whistling even louder.

Sighing, Albus gave up the idea of a catnap and opened the newspaper instead, hoping to find something he could complain about. He had acquired something of a reputation for his correspondence with the Prophet recently. Last winter, for example, he had written an innocent little missive, proposing the migration of Great Britain and Ireland to the Caribbean from November to March every year, and had asked if any bright young witch or wizard could suggest a way of moving both islands there and back without doing any damage. The furious debate had burned for three months, the Readers' Letters section of the paper growing from half a side to five whole pages as the ethics and practicalities of such a move were argued. In fact, such chaos was generated by the sun-seeking 'for' lobby and the traditional, snowball-loving 'against' faction, several arrests had to be made. The Minister of Magic had made a personal visit to Cosy Toes to beg Albus to stop inciting civil disobedience. She had been not entirely surprised to find her request falling on deaf ears, being wolf-whistled at by Fawkes and offered lemon drops by Albus.

Scanning the pages, he found what he was looking for. A sharp letter from an irritated warlock.

"Sir," it read. "When will the Ministry do something about the evil pixies which enter a house by stealth in order to hide one's doorkeys, only to replace them in the first place one looked? Yours etc, M.T. Cranium." Perfect, thought Albus. Reaching for his quill, he began to formulate an answer to this important question, which had plagued his own life for more than a century before he had given up on keys altogether, and taken to locking his rooms with karaoke hexes instead. It made would-be thieves much more entertaining.

He pondered his reply. The evil key-pixies would most likely be deterred by some kind of potion, which could be sprayed onto keys every night before bed. But what potion? A wide grin crept across his face. It was about time he visited his favourite potions expert, and how better to activate that glorious scowl than by asking irrelevant questions about nonsense written in the Daily Prophet? Oddly, the thing he missed most about Hogwarts was the sneering, sulking and amateur dramatics he could so easily provoke in Severus, bless his dirty cotton socks. Ooh, good idea, Albus told himself, walking out to the front of the shop to choose one of his finest pairs. Well, he couldn't just turn up empty-handed now, could he?

…….

Severus was in his library, marking the potions theory paper for the final year trainee auror examination. The scripts were anonymous for impartiality reasons, but he had no trouble recognising candidate number 3.04's handwriting. How Longbottom had made it this far was completely beyond him. He had opted out of involvement in the practical tests this year 'for health reasons', not wanting the noxious substances anywhere near his baby, and now he knew who was sitting them, he was certain he had made the right decision. Longbottom…sorry, candidate 3.04, had certainly acquired firm grip on his theory, though. Severus was surprised to find himself scribbling a red 81 per cent on the top of the paper. A while ago the action would have made him scowl, but now he knew there were better uses for his time than being bitter at someone else's success. He reached for another answer sheet and this time did permit himself a small grimace.

"Well, scrawly number 3.05, let's see what the Destroyer of the Dark Lord knows about the applications of Ackerschlepper's Anti-Venin."

He had only just begun reading Harry's paper when Pip announced that Dumbledore was at the front door. Snape dropped his quill. Damn. He had not wanted anyone to know about the pregnancy yet, least of all that interfering old git. But he really did not want to lie to Albus, and he was rather adept at seeing straight through concealment charms. At six months, Severus was pretty large. There was no way his shape could go unnoticed, especially as he was usually so skinny. He sighed. There was no escaping it, he may as well get it over with.

He stood as Albus entered the drawing room, looking happy and healthy and younger than he had in years. 'Civilian Life' as he called it was clearly suiting him. He was brandishing the most hideously garish pair of socks Severus had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on when he ambled in and stopped as though stricken on seeing his former colleague's swollen belly. He stared for a moment, then looked up, the old shrewdness returning swiftly to his gaze.

"Severus?" he asked sharply, scrutinising him with flinty blue eyes.

"Albus. Nice to see you," he greeted the old man with a polite nod.

"You appear to have, ah, changed shape somewhat."

"Indeed," Severus knew there was no point beating around the bush. "That would be because of the baby." Albus' curious expression morphed into one of glee.

"You're pregnant?" Severus nodded again, with a small smile this time. "My goodness! But that's wonderful! Congratulations, my boy! Wonderful!"

Once Severus had been released from an ecstatic bone-crushing hug and had had his bump inspected, they sat side by side on the sofa with a pot of tea, Severus answered question after question from a thoroughly excited Albus. Eventually, he ran out of exclamations and things to ask, pausing for a moment before commenting gently;

"You know, my boy, you have changed a lot since the war."

"I know," Snape lowered his eyes, fiddling with his cup. "I am enjoying life. For the first time it seems as though my future will contain happiness."

"And Remus?" Albus asked, slyly.

"Yes, Remus seems to be happy with the situation, too."

"No, does your future contain Remus?" He was looking at Severus through narrowed eyes. Severus rolled his eyes. He should have expected this.

"He is the father of my child. Of course there will be regular interaction between us. I would not deny the baby access to their more pleasant parent." Albus rolled his eyes in turn.

"That's not what I meant."

Severus smiled serenely, one hand resting gently on his abdomen.

"We know what you meant, you meddling old sod. And _that_ definitely isn't going to happen," he addressed the bump, "Is it?" Kick.

…….

Harry had three days leave after last exam. He had never been so exhausted in his whole life, and those morons who had claimed that NEWTs were the hardest tests he would ever do were clearly lying toe-rags. After three weeks of stress attacks and all-night study marathons, his finals were finally over, and for the first 24 hours he slept like a particularly lazy log. When he surfaced, refreshed and feeling oddly hollow without the familiar pressure hanging over him, it dawned on him that he really should do something about Remus.

He had been agonising over whether he loved Remus as a parent, or as a lover - for there was no question that he loved him dearly – and found it very confusing, having little practical experience with either category. Either way, he had to talk to him, having practically ignored him for months was not fair, and possibly not the best way to begin the kind of conversation they needed to have. It was Charlie Weasley's wedding on Saturday, not the ideal situation for awkward declarations of feeling, but certainly the best time to apologise for being a moron. Preferably after they had both had a few drinks. If Remus forgave him for being so childish, he would organise a private meeting and…what? Just talk, Harry supposed. His face was flushing at the very thought. Don't worry about that now, he told himself, just get through Saturday first.

The wedding was a fun filled occasion. Charlie had fallen in love with a suitably dragon-mad Australian witch while working in Romania, and the reception hall was full of jubilant Weasleys and delighted Australians, all singing, dancing, drinking and partying with their innumerable friends. And one inebriated phoenix, who was refusing to let anyone else near the firewhiskey.

Harry spotted Remus heading out into the garden, and left Ron and Hermione to their habitual bickering to follow him. He was hiding behind a convenient bush, taking a deep breath to calm himself before stepping out to apologise, when Dumbledore bounded up.

"Remus!" Even from his hidden position, Harry could see that Albus' grin was threatening to sever the top of his head. "I understand that congratulations are in order!" Harry held his breath. What had happened? He cursed himself for deliberately staying out of the loop.

"Oh?" Remus asked, sounding rather guarded.

"I visited Severus yesterday! He told me all about the baby! I'm so very very delighted for you both!"

Harry felt his knees begin to tremble. What the hell was going on? Baby? Snape? The way Dumbledore was talking it sounded as though…but that was impossible!

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Lupin's face was radiating delight. "I didn't know what to think when Severus told me he was pregnant, but I can honestly say it's the best thing to ever happen to me. Imagine! Severus and I, parents!"

Behind the bush, Harry's legs gave way completely. This wasn't happening! It couldn't be happening!

"I've never seen Severus so happy, either," Albus continued in an indulgent tone. "Some wizards would have gone to pieces on realising they were the one in a million men capable of carrying a child, but he seemed to be thrilled."  
"Oh he is," Remus reassured him. "He talks to the baby all the time. We've been making lots of plans…"

Harry managed to scramble to his feet and scurry away, flinging himself down onto a bench in a secluded pagoda, trying to process what he had just heard. He had blown it completely!

His dear Remus was no longer his – he was already a lover AND a parent. He wouldn't want a hopeless Harry hanging around.

Harry had hesitated too long and lost him, lost him to Snape! It was unbelievable.

Remus had got Snape up the duff by some freak accident of nature and they had been playing happy families all the time, while the stupid kid had been agonising over his own angsty feelings.

How could he have been so dense? He should have known that Remus was too nice, that someone else would claim him if Harry did not.

And of course, it just HAD to be Snape. What on earth did Remus see in that nasty piece of work? How had he let this happen?

Unable to believe his own incompetence, Harry banged his head against the wooden back of the bench, once, twice, three times, until the pain made him swear. This was all Snape's fault. It had to be. He had somehow trapped Remus, using that famous Slytherin cunning to lie and deceive. Perhaps he had used a potion to make himself conceive, or a dark arts spell. He must have tricked him into bed then used the bloody sprog to guilt-trip him into staying.

Well, Remus might be sweet enough to be taken in by such trickery, but Harry wasn't going to take it lying down. His face became grimly determined as he made his choice. Snape would be in big trouble.

……

A/N: Thanks again, darling reviewers! I love hearing from you! As with my other fics, I haven't decided what is going to happen, so reviews may influence the outcome. Is Harry Slytherin enough to pit himself against the master snake? Will it be RL-SS? RL-HP? Or no relationships at all? Or will they all die in a freak chizpurfle incident? Who knows. Not I.

Hope you like my Hooligan!Fawkes, he and Barmy!Albus just wrote themselves. I suppose my version of Madam Puddifoot is slightly 'Norah Batty', if that means anything to anyone… (ooh, actually, that's a very HP name isn't it?)


	5. Overemotional

As time wore on, Remus found that the baby occupied this thoughts more and more often. He would catch himself figuring out how to explain certain objects or events to someone who knew nothing about the world, grinning self-consciously as he realised he was obsessing.

But how could he help it? Soon the greatest event possible in the life of a human would happen to him and though the circumstances were not ideal, the timing could not be more perfect. He devoured every book connected with parenthood that he could find, and spent some nice mornings chatting with Molly, surely a greater expert on children than any of the theory-happy academics. Severus had not objected when Remus suggested they tell her – he too understood that she would be an excellent guiding force to have on their side. Her initial concerns had soon been overcome when Remus had brought the pregnant wizard to the Burrow with him, within minutes she had seen how pleased the normally grumpy man was with his condition. He remained curt and reserved, but the old malice was now absent, and he listened to Molly's reminiscences and tips with polite attention. Funny, she had thought as the parents-to-be flooed away from that first meeting, it was as though the professor had been waiting all his life to have that baby. He had certainly changed for the better.

Remus had taken to having supper at Severus' house most evenings. The meal was eaten in a comfortable silence, then they would retire to the sitting-room and discuss any new ideas about the child or the pregnancy for a little while before Remus went home. On the whole, they rather enjoyed these meetings and had formed a tentative bond of friendship based on the new life which they would soon be nurturing together. There had been no more sexual activity. The wolf had remained mercifully dormant, except for perhaps being responsible for Lupin's continuing urge to keep his mate safe and comfortable, which had him automatically plumping cushions on the sofa, and double-checking that the wards on the house were secure at all times. Snape referred to it as 'fussing'. Though strangely, given his vehemently independent streak, he never seemed to object.

Stepping cheerfully through the fireplace one evening before dinner, Remus was concerned to find the now enormous potions master sitting on the floor with his robes crumpled around him and silent tears flooding down his cheeks. He hurried forward.

"Severus! What is it? Is everything all right?" Snape wiped his sleeve wetly across his face and nodded. "Is it the baby? Is something wrong?" Shoulders still jerking with sobs, the dark-haired man shook his head as more tears swam in his swollen eyes. Remus was at a loss, terrified that something awful had happened. Kneeling down, he tried again. "Did you fall?"

"No," sniffed Snape, apparently too upset to even be ashamed of being so emotional. He held out his fist and opened his hand to show something to the werewolf. Lying in his palm was a tiny, tiny pair of pale pink woollen socks. Remus felt this did nothing to clarify, and stared blankly at Severus. "Albus sent them," he sobbed cryptically, clutching the gift to his chest.

"What's wrong with that?" Lupin asked gently, taking out his handkerchief and registering mild surprise when the Slytherin lifted his face and allowed it to be wiped.

"They're so _small,_" he wailed, dissolving into total, trembling despair, obviously suffering from an acute hormone-induced upset. Remus took a minuscule sock and held it between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it closely, relieved that nothing was really wrong. He had to agree, only the tiniest of feet would be wearing these bunny-soft little pink numbers. His brow creased slightly.

"Hang on, these are pink!" exclaimed Remus.

"This is Dumbledore we're talking about," grumbled Snape nasally. "If he's sent a pink present then he must know something we don't." He carried on crying freely. Remus could stand it no longer and pulled him into a big hug, pressing the wet face into his chest and stroking the black hair as soothingly as he could, not wanting to be seen smiling. His protective instinct had kicked in immediately on seeing the other man so uncharacteristically helpless and, well, sweet.

"Shh," he whispered. "You mustn't upset yourself, love." Snape clung to him, greedily accepting the comfort.

"How can I take care of something so small? So fragile and utterly dependent? A daughter," he hiccuped as he tried to stop crying. "A little girl. How can I do this? I'm a horrible man. How dare I have thought I was worthy of creating a new little person, and influencing a whole existence?"

Remus was smiling even more now. Poor Severus, torturing himself with thoughts like these. The enormity of the situation occasionally sneaked up on Lupin, too, he explained, but he promised himself that he would spend the rest of his life striving to do the best for his child.

"What if our best isn't good enough?" demanded Severus, muffled somewhat by a mouthful of cardigan. Remus kissed the top of his head.

"It will be," he promised firmly. "We'll make sure it is. And I believe these things happen for a reason. I mean, you didn't actively choose to get pregnant or anything." For some reason, this made him sob even harder.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus had cried himself out and Remus helped him to bed. Too exhausted by his episode to do much himself, he had allowed Remus to remove his outer clothing and tuck him underneath the covers, where he immediately snuggled down to sleep. Remus stood by the bed for a while just watching him, the round bump which by some miracle contained their daughter, rising and falling with Severus' steady breathing. He had never witnessed a full-scale mood swing before, though Snape had assured him that such bouts of irrationality could strike at any time, completely incapacitating him before evaporating as quickly as they had arrived. It felt good to be involved in yet another aspect of their child's life, albeit an odd one. Remus found it difficult to drag himself away while the protective urge was still in full force – he couldn't shake the idea that it was wrong to leave his mate alone in this state, but to stay and curl up next to him would breach the accepted boundaries of their association. Severus might be vulnerable at the moment, but there would certainly be big trouble if he awoke to find an unauthorised werewolf in his bed.

Sighing gently, he dropped a kiss onto the bump and left.

…….

Harry's research into the hazy domain of male pregnancy was proving very difficult. He managed to glean a little information here and there, but any serious records were vague or completely missing. The old tome he was currently fighting his way through, for example, was quoting exerts from the diary of a young witch who had married into the Desiato family, whose brother-in-law seemed to be sharing the exact symptoms of her pregnancy, while being incessantly fussed over by his 'very close friend, Roger'. The later half of the journal, it was reported, had been heavily censored, and when the author had attempted a copying spell on an entry describing the change in his figure, that entire week's pages had spontaneously combusted. The writer went on to link the incident with the painful case of spattergroit he suspiciously contracted a few hours later. Harry swallowed, making a mental note to be more careful in the future.

All that he had managed to discover was that only purebloods from the old noble families were affected. Smiling to himself, he wondered why he had never noticed just how in-bred Snape looked. All pale, weedy and sickly. Sirius had been right when he called him a freak and an oddball, he would have absolutely loved to taunt him about being an hermaphrodite, or whatever you called a child-bearing male. He wouldn't be impressed about Remus' role in the affair though. Harry still didn't understand how had Remus had allowed himself to be trapped like that. And what had he been doing with Snape in the first place? He was wealthy now, thanks to his best-selling war memoirs, he could afford any potions from the shops in Diagon Alley, and the invention of instant Wolfsbane meant that any werewolf capable of boiling water could render himself safe at full moon without any assistance from a potions master.

Knowing he could not put it off any longer, he went to see Remus.

Lupin stood when Harry entered the kitchen, a mixture of joy and apprehension on his face. Harry's trainee auror's instincts noted the title of the book, '100 More Incantations for Infants', and he couldn't resist pursing his lips. Remus looked at the book.

"It...er...it's," he floundered.

"I know about Snape," Harry said, as evenly as he could. "And about the baby. I suppose I should congratulate you."

"Thank you. How did you find out? No one is supposed to know," Lupin was regarding him anxiously now.

"I overheard Dumbledore talking to you at the wedding."

"Oh, I see," he gestured towards a chair. "Won't you sit down?"

There was a painful silence, until Remus recovered enough to offer drinks. Harry took a glass of fresh lemonade and sipped it pensively, wondering how on earth he was supposed to begin. Lupin beat him to it.

"So," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I suppose you're a qualified auror now!"

Harry's face darkened. Not the best opening.

"No," he answered with forced calm. "I failed one of my exams. I have to resit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Remus commiserated, inwardly cursing his lack of tact. "But I'm sure I've heard Tonks say that most people fail at least one – she had to resit the stealth-tracking test four times, didn't she?"

"Five," corrected Harry. "I got the highest marks ever on the duelling practical. But apparently my potions theory was the second-lowest grade the current examiner had given." He noticed Remus go suddenly stiff and become very interested in his fingernails. "He's an odd one, Professor Hardtbrind," the young man continued, "I met him during the practical. He said I was a perfectly competent brewer, then he goes and savages my written paper. Weird."

Remus opened and closed his mouth a few times, before his Griffindor sense of honesty prevailed.

"Harry, Hardtbrind did not mark your theory paper," he muttered, staring at the floor.

"What?" Harry was momentarily confused. "Well then who…oh! Oh, I see. Right. I suppose he didn't attend the practical exam for the safety of the _baby,_" the last word was spat, rather than spoken. Lupin regarded Harry steadily.

"That's right. He has to be careful. He would never risk harming our child," he said calmly.

The words 'our child' were too much for Harry. He leapt up, his chair crashing onto the tiles behind him.

"Remus! For Merlin's sake! You're not really taken in by this are you?" he yelled. Lupin shifted in his seat but said nothing. "I don't know what he's up to, but you can't trust him! He's a devious, calculating, manipulative snake! And you can't _love_ him! Please, Remus," he was leaning over the werewolf now, the flush of anger in his cheeks belied by the mournful round eyes. "Please tell me you don't love him!"

Remus was utterly confused, and a little unnerved at the way the beautiful young man was behaving. But he couldn't help noticing how the heightened colour suited him, and the charming way he was chewing his lower lip was a treat to be saved for, er, later. He seemed to be very emotional today. Remus shook these thoughts away and took a deep breath to answer the question.

"No, Harry. I don't love Severus. Why is that so important to you?"

Relief flooded through the trainee auror. Now was the perfect opportunity to confess, but how the hell was he going to face the consequences of what he was about to say? A coward's plan began to form in his mind as he gazed at Remus, looking so attractive in his confusion – amber eyes full of concern, little moustache quivering. Deciding he was worth any potential embarrassment, Harry cleared his throat and blurted;

"Because I love you."

Then Harry ran.

…….

A/N: Excrement/ventilator interface! Next time, Harry might get a plan and Remus might get a headache… And I don't think we've seen the last of the Secret Weapon, either.

Thank you again for some charming reviews, you lovely lovely people! I know HP is being a bit of a turd at the moment, but as I seem to be physically incapable of anything other than a happy ending, I'm sure it will all turn out for the best!

…….

Another Note: Thank you for your wonderful responses to my therapy-piece "Business as Usual" which I couldn't help but write during an angry half hour after the news of the bombings came through yesterday. I felt much better as soon as I'd finished it, and I'm thrilled to note that we are pretty much back to normal here already. It has been great to see all the messages of support from total strangers (on this site as well as out there), especially as just 24 hours earlier we were partying in the streets over the 2012 Olympics! Life is a series of ups and downs.

Once again, thank you.

With love, Snape's Nightie, London, 8th July 2005 x


	6. Let Battle Commence

Being summoned 'immediately' to the boss's office is a traumatic experience for almost every human adult.

Harry Potter folded the paper-dart memo and placed it in his pocket, summoning every ounce of Griffindor bravado he possessed not to run for the nearest fireplace. For him, an extra element of unpleasantness surrounding the task lurked in the ante-room and made his stomach churn even before he reached the desk of the Head of the Auror Division.

That most fearsome of creatures, guaranteed to quiver the knees of even the boldest warrior. The ex.

Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door and was confronted with the sight of two delectably-shaped buttocks in a very smart, very short skirt. Their owner straightened up from the low-level drawer she had been investigating and a mesmerising pair of dark brown eyes met his.

"Good morning, Harry," she smiled politely at him.

As usual, his throat closed over and it took him three attempts to create a sound.

"Hello, Cho," he managed.

"She's just using the floo. Would you like some coffee while you wait?" It was the same tone she used for all the important visitors who waited for the Chief Auror, bright and professional, but somehow her voice made Harry feel like a hapless teenager again. He opted to just shake his head, not willing to risk further vocalisation. Damn that girl! Or that _woman_, he should say, as neither of them were children anymore. It had been years since their miserable attempt at a childish relationship had fizzled down to its pathetic conclusion, and Harry could not decide whether it was a residual flood of attraction or pure embarrassment which had him squirming each time he saw her.

Whatever the reason, seeing her always wrong-footed him on his way to the main office.

A few minutes later, he was standing awkwardly in front of Chief Auror Tonks, who was scowling at a ten-foot long scroll running across her desk and onto the floor. Her hair was in a neat brown bob and she was wearing a very businesslike face.

"Blasted muggles," she muttered to no one in particular. "They really don't help themselves, do they?" She looked up and gave him her full attention. "Wotcher, Harry. Have a seat. You look flustered, are you OK?"

He cleared his throat self-consciously, gesturing towards the outer office with his chin.

"Cho," he murmured.

"Oh yes, I always forget about that," Tonks gave a sympathetic nod. Feeling emboldened by her show of feeling, he voiced a thought which had needled him since his training began.

"Ma'am, I still don't understand why one of the cleverest witches at Hogwarts is working as a _secretary._ She did brilliantly in her NEWTS. It makes no sense."

The empathy in Tonks's eyes dies instantly.

"Mr Potter, how many times have you been warned about making assumptions?" Harry winced. "As you should be fully aware by now, being an auror consists of one-part trying to catch dark wizards and two-parts completing paperwork about it. Administrating this department takes huge amounts of skill and dedication. Since I became Chief, I've noticed how hard the non-field staff here work – much longer hours than the aurors, incidentally. Miss Chang's arrival was something of a revolution. For the first time in 750 years we have a filing system which actually works. Ask yourself if that demands more intelligence than casting tracking spells on phials of virgin's blood from Borgin & Burke's. She has chosen a less glamorous role than you, but no less vital to our work."

Duly chastised, Harry looked at the floor, then gave what he hoped was a winning smile in order to salvage the situation.

"Of course, Ma'am. Ravenclaws, eh?" he started shaking his head when he caught sight of the familiar pin Tonks was wearing on her lapel. The one she always wore. The one with the black raven on a blue background. He swallowed. She raised her eyebrows.

"I can't imagine what they teach in the Observation and Investigation classes nowadays," she asked in a faintly alarmed tone. "I thought lesson one was to use your eyes, and lesson two was that a subject is less likely to co operate if an auror antagonises them?"

"That's right, Chief. I'm very sorry," he couldn't help but blush at his glaring mistake.

"Forgiven, Harry. Now, onto the reason why I asked you to be here," she settled behind her desk with, if possible, an even more stern expression. Harry still had difficulty reconciling this demanding boss with the fun-loving young witch who used to turn her nose into a pig snout to make him laugh at Grimmauld Place. The burden of responsibility had changed her, though he had heard that the metamorphagus still pranked people on birthdays or bachelor parties. "I hear that you have been openly criticising the working methods of the Department."

"What!" the exclamation leapt out before he could stop it.

"You were overheard in the cafeteria, criticising our training procedures. Would you care to explain?" she cocked her head slightly, inviting his response.

Harry's mind whirled as he tried to understand what the problem was. The cafeteria? He hadn't been there since yesterday evening, when he had told Neville and the others about…

"Snape," snorted Harry. "I just found out that he had failed my potions theory exam."

"No, Mr Potter," corrected Tonks calmly. "_You_ failed your potions theory exam."

Harry's head snapped up, but he managed to keep his outrage to a minimum.

"Ma'am, Snape has hated me since before I was born. Of course he failed me! And don't say that the papers were anonymous because he knows my writing! That was the only exam I failed. If it weren't for him I would be a qualified auror now," he struggled to keep the tone light and not vent the bitterness he felt. He deliberately tried not to think that the greasy old swine had also used his cunning to trick Harry's darling Remus into parenthood.

Tonks pressed a button on her desk and asked Cho to locate Harry's exam script and bring it in. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Harry's toes curled as the perfect administrator handed over a sheaf of parchment with FAIL stamped across the front in enormous, red letters. He couldn't imagine Cho failing at anything in her life. He dared not make eye contact, not knowing whether he was more afraid of seeing scorn or pity in those lovely eyes. Why did she have to be in charge of the exam paperwork too? Merlin, this was turning into a truly vile day.

Tonks opened the script and, squinting, Harry could make out a large 38 per cent scrawled at the top in a familiar hand. He bit down on his irritation. This could be a vindication, he realised, if Tonks could see how well he had really answered, he would be qualified! And with a bit of luck, Snape would be sacked for victimisation, too. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Ah, yes," she said, glancing at the questions. "This takes me back! Well, it seems that you answered well in the first part of the paper, except for a rather obvious omission of the side-effects of Daeninckx solution. Don't forget: two heads are not always better than one!" She turned the page and frowned. "Ah. Now here we come to the problem. Part two, the long-answer section. You chose the question on Ackerschlepper's Anti-Venin, worth fifty per cent of the marks."

"Yes," said Harry not listening properly as he tried to hide his developing elation.

"Then you proceeded to give an in-depth analysis of Adelheffner's Anti-Vermin Potion," she looked at him questioningly.

The silence following her words was deafening. Harry was sure he actually felt his jaw hit the floor. Tonks turned the script around and pushed it across the desk to Harry could see Snape's scathing red comments. 'Candidate should learn how to read,' was top of the diatribe. His shoulders sagged.

"I must have misread the question," he mumbled, so mortified it actually hurt. The Chief Auror gave him a moment's peace for the realization to sink in, before speaking.

"Though I am sure your knowledge of pest-control is an asset to your domestic life," she said as kindly as she could. "I'm afraid it would be of no help to a colleague who had just been attacked by a venomous beast."

"Mmm," replied Harry, still in a daze. Tonks cleared her throat and retrieved the paper.

"You _must_ pay attention, Harry! I know people like to make fun of Mad-eye, but he's still alive thanks to his Constant Vigilance. That small lapse of concentration cost you the exam, but misreading information out in the field it could cost your life."

"I'm sorry," muttered Harry.

"So am I," sighed his boss, clearly not enjoying this. "Unfortunately, we still have to deal with reason I asked you to come here. You were using unpleasant language to question the competence of a Ministry-approved examiner in a public place."

"But it's Snape! Everyone knows…" began Harry petulantly, before she cut him off.

"Mr Potter! Must I remind you that you are training to be an MLE professional? That your every word and deed from now on can be seen to represent the views of the Ministry?" He had heard it a million times before, but in Harry's opinion, this particular speech sucked. Who cared? Getting no response, Tonks continued. "Whatever your personal views, we must present a united public front. To have a world-famous young role model ridiculing our operational procedures is damaging on both national and international levels. No one reads the Ministry's mission statements, but there would be a keen interest in a press article featuring the Boy-Who-Lived denouncing his superiors as…" she picked up a piece of paper from one of the many in-trays on the desk. "As a 'load of idiots for trusting that slimy Slytherin arse-bandit'."

Harry looked aghast once more. Had he actually said that? He desperately tried to recall his little rant the previous evening. He had made a real effort during the previous three years of training to keep his emotions under control and use the wearying politically-correct vocabulary which was drummed into all staff to try and avoid claims of victimization, but after leaving Remus' house yesterday he had been very distressed. He had actually called Snape an arse-bandit? Oh, Merlin, now that was ironic, given his recent conclusions about his own preferences.

"Ma'am, I'm sure I didn't say that," he tried a warm smile to placate her.

"This transcript was timed at 18:47 last night. Let me see, also present were newly-qualified Aurors Bilhash and Longbottom, a trainee healer named Hermione Jane Granger using visitor pass number 45441JK. You had mushroom soup and a pumpkin juice, which you drank straight from the bottle because there were no clean goblets available at that time. Various others were not at your table but well within earshot. I can have names, addresses and inside leg measurements within three minutes, Mr Potter." She leaned forwards in genuine curiosity. "Harry, what were you thinking? It wasn't even the staff canteen, but the public one! One quarter of British wizardry started their adult life in Slytherin house, and I'm not sure of the statistics on homosexuality, but I know that you just potentially offended huge sections of the magical community. And implying that everyone at the Ministry was an 'idiot', within the Ministry's own walls? I'm very sorry, Harry, I have no choice but to put you on report."

Harry cringed all through the subsequent lecture on how great fame required great responsibility, that he should conduct himself with honour at all times, be a credit to himself and the Ministry, what his mother would have said, etc., etc. Then, after a good deal of mental deliberation, Tonks decided to broach a subject she had internally sworn never to discuss with Harry.

"You know that we do not accept applicants for the Auror Training Scheme who are fresh out of school. We require a minimum of one year's relevant life experience – such as work with magical creatures, internships with companies or living amongst muggles for the purebloods," the young man was looking so miserable she made an attempt to lighten the mood. "They were impressed with my year as a barmaid at the Hog's Head! The panel said that if I survived a year of dangerous drunks and Aberforth's wandering hands then the odd curse in the line of duty would be no problem!"

When Harry did not laugh she ploughed on.

"Chief Auror Jones admitted you to the scheme six weeks after your NEWTs on the strength of your amazing victory against Voldemort. She agreed with Professor Dumbledore's assessment that you had faced more dark wizardry during your schooldays than some of our senior staff members had in a working lifetime, so the year-out requirement was waived in your case. In the light of Mr Longbottom's crucial involvement in the war, and in the interests of equality, he was also allowed to join on leaving Hogwarts.

"With hindsight, I am beginning to doubt the wisdom of my predecessor's decision."

Harry swallowed a cry of distress but could not hide the incredulity on his face as her words sank in. They were throwing him out? Now? After three years hard slog they were going to fail him because of one lousy exam and a juvenile outburst about Snape?

"What exactly are you saying, Chief?" he asked quietly.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Harry. Until now you have done well in all of your classes, and your exam performance has been consistently strong. You have acquitted all your fieldwork tasks with competence, and your reflexes are the finest in your year. You should be proud of yourself. However," Tonks stood and began to pace carefully up and down as she tried to explain. "I do not believe that all of life's lessons can be learned in the classroom. No one can deny that from a young age you have independently proven your level-headedness many times over, but I'm afraid your…emotional maturity leaves something to be desired."

"Are you calling me immature?" demanded Harry, his brain whirling as he tried to process what was fact, what was compliment, and what was criticism.

"Yes, in some ways. I mean no insult, Harry. You've been through hell and back in your short life and it is my belief that you need to spend some time coming to terms with what you have experienced and to decide who you are," She turned to face him, gazing down as though trying to read something in his features. Her voice dropped very low. "Exactly _who_ is Harry Potter?"

"Just me," he responded in a distant whisper, suddenly realizing that he couldn't answer properly. It was not a question he liked to think about. Suddenly he could hear a raging storm and smell the waves crashing outside an abandoned shack, as a terrified boy just minutes into his eleventh birthday told a peevish half-giant: "Just Harry."

It was decided. After a further half hour of one-sided discussion, Harry was committed to re-sitting the Potions Theory paper in a week's time, then taking a year-long sabbatical.

"Work, travel, take up knitting, start a rock band, the choice is yours," said Tonks, not unkindly. "Just do some _living_!"

He stumbled blindly for the door, trying to compose his swirling thoughts before crossing Cho's domain, when the Chief Auror called him back. He turned around to see her sprouting long black greasy hair and a hooked nose.

"And learn how to read!" she instructed, in a fair imitation of Snape's most threatening tone.

This time he laughed.

…….

The frying pan sizzled away on the cooker. Pip the house-elf hovered unobtrusively at the other end of the kitchen, in case her master should suddenly need her. He had explained that he was making his own snack not because he did not trust his Pip, but because humans was sometimes getting the same satisfaction as elves was when they made something delicious, which she supposed made sense.

Humans was odd creatures. Not bad-odd, because Pip was a good elf and never spoke ill of her clever master, but good-odd. She knew things they was doing was not always making sense to elves, but only bad elves was questioning them for it. Like master's baby. No boy-creature was supposed to have babies itself. But her wonderful master had told her to make a room all special for a baby, then a few weeks later had stayed out all night then come home carrying the little one inside his own self! That was good-odd. She was sure no elf had ever been lucky enough to care for such a clever wizard.

Now he was in her kitchen, using her pans and her stove to cook slices of his loomy-cheese which tasted of salt and rubber, and eating straight from the pan without no plate or no fork because that was what his little baby needed. Master's baby was very demanding. It was making him fat, but Pip was not cross about that. He had been too thin before, and if he was to grow the tiny one properly, he needed lots of good things to eat, even if it was this loomy-cheese. She had never heard of frying cheese before, but master was on his third packet this evening so it must be tasty. She watched how carefully in case he got tired of doing his own cooking and asked his Pip to do it instead.

Eventually, he got full up and was complimenting good Pip on her clean kitchen before going to lie on the sofa, rubbing his big cheese-and-baby belly and saying kind things to it. Pip was delighted that master was pleased with her and did a little jig of elvish joy around the room when she was sure he could not see. She loved master very much. She could hardly wait until master's baby was here to be cared for as well!

…….

A few short months ago, Remus Lupin's life had held little promise of a happy future. Loneliness, survivor's guilt and an increasing dependence on firewhiskey had given him an uninspiring daily routine – the royalties from his book meant that he had no need to work, but mankind's natural fear of werewolves made it difficult to get anything to merely pass the time. Even the charities he offered to volunteer for seemed concerned that he had 'had a bad war' and should enjoy his retirement, nervously thanking him for his kind offer even as they escorted him to the door.

But now everything had changed. 'Be careful what you wish for', people used to say, and now Remus understood why. He had longed for a family, and lo, unexpectedly, fatherhood had happened to him. He had longer for Harry's love and it had materialised. In theory, Remus J. Lupin should have been the happiest wizard on earth.

Of course he should have known that life was never that simple. His would-be lover and the bearer of his child hated each other with the fire of a thousand hells and Remus saw precious little chance of changing the situation. Harry believed Severus was somehow up to no good, and Merlin knew how Severus was going to react when he heard about this development. He should put it delicately to avoid putting the pregnant man under any more stress at the moment.

The memory of the young man's succulent lips touching his own earlier that evening gave Remus pleasant chills. Harry had arrived at his house in a terrible state after being forced to take leave from the MLE to address his emotional issues. Tonks was absolutely right of course, there was no way that Harry should have been allowed to plunge straight into the most demanding profession with the homely scent of the schoolroom still clinging to his robes. At the time, everyone had congratulated him on sidestepping the regulations and told him how clever he was for this great achievement.

Actually, that was not strictly true. One person had been heard sneering that rules were in place for a reason and that breaking them would only lead to trouble for all concerned. But Harry's friends had all been too busy celebrating to listen.

Severus had been right, though naturally Harry had seen his sulking as a deliberate attempt to rain on his parade. Dear Severus! He had been so content throughout his pregnancy, quietly relishing the attention Remus was paying him and their unborn child. As he got further along he would need more support from the other parent, too. Now Harry would have nothing to do all day and would demand lots of his time as they tried to build a relationship. He was not looking forward to seeing Severus today.

Remus wondered how he got himself into these situations.

…….

As Lupin left after an eventful visit, Severus flopped back onto the sofa, propping his feet up on the arm and arranging the familiar nest of cushions to support his aching body. The baby was overexcited today, as she had just learned how to kick Papa's right kidney whilst twisting and dancing to some crazy rhythm which only she could hear. The potions master disapproved of parties in general, so to have a long-haul one going on inside himself was rather disconcerting.

Snape groaned as her wiggling pushed on his bladder _again_ and stroked the bump gently in an attempt to sooth the little monster within. To no avail. The contact from outside served only to encourage her.

"Quiet in there, my treasure!" he chided softly. Though he was feeling tired and battered, he couldn't be cross with the baby. It was delightful that she seemed to be so healthy, in fact. It must be due to the energy from all that delicious Halloumi. His mouth started watering at the thought of the chewy Greek cheese and he set Pip to frying another hearty batch in olive oil before lying back on his cushion-sculpture and reflecting on Lupin's visit.

So the infernal little Potter pest had set his cap at the werewolf. This was not part of the plan. Normally, he would have laughed aloud on hearing that he had been proved right and the boy had been suspended or however they chose to phrase it for being emotionally incontinent and possibly unbalanced. Not that Lupin would ever describe it in those terms. But now, instead of having two fathers at her beck and call, the baby would have to compete with the scar-headed menace for Lupin's love and attention.

Severus cursed himself for not considering the possibility of the werewolf acquiring a lover. He had been so broken-down when Snape had seduced him, it was hard to imagining any sane person wanting stable their broomstick next to his. Yet clearly, Potter was not quite sane.

And what was Lupin thinking, hooking up with the disturbed child of his dead best friends? Snape was certain that this time, his would not be the only voice of disapproval. At his age, the randy old wolf really ought to know better. He summoned his trusty notebook and began another list.

What would Lucius do?

1) Kill Potter.

2) Torture Lupin.

3) Have a pedicure.

No, no no. That would not do at all. He couldn't go around casting Unforgivables in his condition. He crossed out the list, except for the pedicure part, which he decided to bear in mind for later.

What he needed were allies. He had never been one to palm off his dirty work onto other, less competent people; but then he had never been heavily pregnant, emotional and exhausted before.

He began another list.

People whom I trust, who are certain to object to the Potter/Lupin situation

1) Dumbledore.

2) Weasley Matriarch.

3) Me.

Hmm. Not a terribly long list. The criteria were too stringent, of course. He had learned long ago that misplaced trust could lead to disaster. Still, the three names could be very powerful forces in his favour if handled correctly.

Cuddling his bulge while revelling in the knowledge that he was perfectly within his rights to protect his child's future, Snape began some good old Slytherin plotting.

…….

A/N: Hello, hello and welcome back to the most unoriginally-titled HP fic on the internet! Four months to update? That's disgraceful even by my slacker's standards. I have some evil ideas for next time, so the next part won't be so long in coming.

A big hug and a tub of your favourite ice-cream to anyone who's still there! (Will bribe for hits, I have no shame). Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I had some gorgeous reviews for previous chapters and thank you for your views on the eventual pairings. I still haven't decided, so if you want to stick your three knut's worth in, then I'd love to read it!


	7. The Rules of Engagement If any

A word from the author: My stories are like London buses. You wait four months for an update, then two come along at once. (And when they do, they're full of freaks and a bit smelly.) Thanks for reading x.

…….

Molly Weasley was sitting at her kitchen table, weeping.

Snape's first instinct was to step right back into the fireplace and get as far away as possible, but his inner Slytherin suggested that she could be of more use to him in her emotional state. Over the last few months she had provided invaluable assistance to the fathers-to-be, and had seemed very interested in the unusual occurrence of a male pregnancy. He would not describe her as a friend, exactly, because in Severus' life there had only ever been one friend, and his body was now lying in the rocky earth of the compound of Azkaban prison. She was well-disposed towards him, which was good enough. And discreet, which was even better.

"Oh hello, Severus," she sniffed, smiling and self-consciously dabbing at her wet face. "Come on in, dear, don't mind a silly old woman!"

"Is anything wrong, Molly?" he asked as she led him to a chair and helped him put his feet up.

"No, not _wrong_ exactly," she chuckled, still leaking alarming amounts of water. "I doubt anyone else would understand. It's just that…well, just listen."

They listened for a moment. Snape frowned.

"I am afraid I hear nothing," he confessed, wondering if temporary deafness was one of the thousand unfortunate side-effects of pregnancy.

"Precisely," she was still smiling and still crying. "Total silence. In this house! My babies have grown up and gone away! Every single day I am grateful that they are all healthy and enjoying their own lives, but sometimes I wish they were still here with their daft old Mummy."

Snape nodded. He had heard of the phenomenon, of course. 'Empty-nest syndrome', it was called. It was the reason that witches went on self-discovery pilgrimages to all-female cults in Transylvania, or that middle-aged wizards suddenly decided they had to start dressing like colour-blind children.

"Naturally I cannot empathise completely," he explained softly, "But I have been experiencing dreams with the same foundation."

She mopped her face again and looked interested.

"Of course, it may just be a result of all the cheese I need to consume lately, but at least once a week I dream that I am in charge of a precious egg which I must protect at all costs. Eventually the egg hatches and a baby emerges, but she flies away and no matter how fast I run, I cannot bring her back. I know it is only a dream, but it makes me afraid. How will I be able to take care of this child once she is born? And how will I ever let her go when she grows up?" he realised he was wringing his hands as he spoke, so held the arms of the chair instead. This was not something he had discussed before. He felt rather foolish for being worried about his baby growing up and leaving him, when she wasn't even ready to leave his body yet.

Molly was not mocking him. She smiled knowingly and reassured him that this was what parenthood was all about. Constant worry about doing the right thing. Teaching your children how to be independent then hating it when they proved they didn't need you. Fear of outside influences beyond your control on young minds. Severus now grudgingly admitted that the hysterical parents of first-year Slytherins who bombarded him with letters and floo-calls for the first six weeks of term may not have been as mental as he had always believed. Eleven years was no great age to be sent away from home, after all. He began stroking the bump, though whether he was trying to soothe his daughter or himself, he did not care to consider.

"I'm sure that you and Remus will manage just fine," she beamed at him, all tears forgotten as she counselled the younger man. She rose to fetch a pot of tea and Severus decided it was time to act. In both senses of the word.

"Actually, Molly, I am rather concerned about Remus' commitment to our child," he said miserably. She turned and laughed.

"Remus? You have nothing to fear there, dear. Remus is as excited as you about being a Dad! What brought this on?" She turned back to the stove, smiling to herself.

"He has a lover," Snape said, enjoying the look of shock on her face as she spun round to face him. Perfect! And she hadn't heard the best part yet.

Just then the floo flared and Dumbledore appeared with Fawkes perched sleepily on his shoulder. Internally Severus grinned with delight. This was better than he could have imagined! Dumbledore's face broke into rapturous beaming on spotting Severus and he came rushing over to place his ear against the round belly and listen for the baby's heartbeat.

"Lovely and strong, dear boy! Ouch!" he exclaimed, as she promptly deafened him with a well-placed kick. "Goodness me! What a lively one! I think we have a champion Beater in the making here!"

Fawkes flapped nonchalantly down to the floor and busied himself in trying to look up Molly's skirt until she caught him and threw him outside to play with the gnomes.

"Don't you dare set fire to Arthur's shed again! I'll have you on the top of the Christmas tree before you can say 'Gunpowder, Treason and Plot'!" she threatened. "Did you have to bring that dreadful bird, Albus, dear?"

"Never mind about him, Molly," he said, settling into the chair next to Snape and eyeing them both avidly. "I want to hear all about whatever it is that made you look so horrified when I arrived."

So Severus told him.

Then he told them both the identity of Remus' new lover.

All over the village of Ottery-St Catchpole, birds rose out of the trees in alarm at the sound of an ear-splitting bellow.

"WHAAAAAT?"

Fawkes glanced up from the wriggling gnome he was dismembering, then loped with the inelegant manner of all winged creatures when on _terra firma_ over to the scene of the disturbance. He hoped there was a fight. He enjoyed the Grumpy Dark One's explosions of temper almost as much as Albus did.

He was disappointed to find neither fighting nor duelling. Not even any mild cursing. Probably because the Grumpy Dark One was expecting a clutch, he felt the need to be calm. Birds cannot 'tut', but a phoenix can roll its eyes. Fawkes did so now.

Much to his consternation, Dumbledore ignored him.

"Harry?" Molly and Albus gaped in a chorus of horror. Severus was thoroughly enjoying himself now. He looked away as though trying to hide his chagrin.

"And now that P…Harry has been suspended from his duties at the Auror's office for a year, I fear that he will occupy most of Remus' time," he bit his lower lip for emphasis. "I cannot compete with James and Lily Potter's son! With Black's godson! There's no way that Remus will choose the company of an ugly old thing like me and a howling babe when he could be having a lust-fest with his pretty young boy." Severus surprised even himself when he burst into tears. Mr Oscar, eat your heart out, he thought.

Unfortunately, though he was exaggerating for the benefit of his audience, he _was_ feeling rather afraid of desertion. He was fairly sure that Molly and Albus would be willing to help him raise the baby, so he wouldn't be completely alone, but he had originally chosen Lupin because he had hoped for the total devotion to the child that only a parent can have. Snape was not enough on his own. Cantankerous, irrational and anti-social, he knew he was not suited to nurturing a young person alone.

Albus and Molly rushed forward to comfort him, and for once he did not mind being touched. The more allies he could make for the baby's sake, the better. The old wizard held his hand while the matriarch pressed his head against her bosom. Surprisingly, it was actually rather pleasant. They were both livid, he could tell, and he crowed at the thought of their anger on his behalf. He hoped he had used just the right terminology to make Lupin and Potter's little dalliance seem even more sordid. He wrapped his arms around his bump.

"I don't want her to grow up not knowing her father!" he sniffed miserably.

"Of course you don't!" huffed Molly. "You've wanted nothing but the best for this little one since the very beginning. This is a horrible development and I will do everything in my power to remedy the situation." Snape could not see her face, but her voice had taken on an ominous quality which made him shiver on Remus' behalf.

"I think it's time went to have a little chat with Remus," said Dumbledore mildly, but even from his restricted position, Severus could see little sparks of something blue flickering in the kindly old eyes.

That was the moment when Ron Weasley popped his head into the fireplace to ask his Mum why all his white shirts had gone pink despite having used the right laundry spell, while his red jumper seemed to be perfectly all right.

…….

"What did she say?" asked Harry, kneeling on Ron's floor surrounded by clothes, sorting out unaffected items from inexplicably pink ones. On the positive side, even the pink ones smelled clean. Ron's face was contorted with disgust.

"I didn't get the chance to ask. Snape was there!" he moaned. "Cuddling my Mum! Gross!"

"Snape was cuddling?" Harry wasn't sure he could take many more shocks to his system.

"Well, she was cuddling him," he admitted, knowing very well how easy it was to inexplicably find oneself maternally molested when wandering innocently around the Burrow. "But still! Yuk! And Dumbledore was there too, and Fawkes. Man, he'd better not have set Dad's shed on fire again! Mum'll barbeque him and Dumbledore both!"

But Harry was no longer listening. He hated the way Remus was always talking about Snape's baby instead of listening to what Harry had to say. He knew that the potions master had used some kind of dark magic to get himself knocked up, while abusing Remus' sweet nature for his own evil ends. If only he could uncover the deadly secret and reveal it to Remus, the sexy werewolf would be his and his alone!

He hesitated for a moment before deciding on his next move. He would be breaking the law as well as Ministry regulations, but he was already on sabbatical and would be able to claim temporary insanity, should anyone find out. It was too good an opportunity to miss, he chose a wild course of action.

He would go to Snape's house and dig some dirt. The place was probably surrounded with all manner of dangerous wards and protections, but he had spent most of his second year learning how to recognise and neutralise dark spells in order to infiltrate suspects' houses. He was very good at it, in fact. Harry was certain that whatever horrors the Slytherin used to protect his property while he was away, they would be far less dangerous than a confrontation with the creature in his own lair. That pearl of wisdom was not learned from the Auror Training Scheme. That one was from Hagrid.

"Do you think perhaps we should have separated the light clothes from the dark?" asked Ron, still grimacing at his New Look. The majority of each shirt was pastel-pink, but for some reason, all collars and cuffs were a very fetching shade of puce. Every day of the year, Ron wished he had a house elf. "Harry? Earth to Harry! Are you listening? Hey, have you really gone a bit funny in the head, mate?"

Harry stood with determination, oblivious to his friend's little joke.

"Ron, I'm sorry about the washing, but I have to go," he said, setting his chin at a brave angle.

"Go? But you just got here. Are you OK?" Ron looked bewildered now, recognising that look from days gone by. "What's happened? Is it dangerous? Shall I come with you?"

"No, Ron. Thank you, but it's something I have to do alone," he moved over to the fireplace and struck an heroic pose. "I'll tell you all about it later, if I survive." He vanished in a 'whoomph' of green flame.

Ron was left alone with an armful of spoiled laundry, feeling very, very confused.

"I should be used to this by now," he muttered to no one in particular.

…….

Severus, Molly and Albus were still discussing how best to handle the situation when a terrified Pip appeared in the Weasleys' kitchen.

"Master Snape, Master Snape! Is terrible! Oh! No! No! No!" she shrieked fearfully, clutching at her ears and hopping from foot to foot.

"What's wrong, Pip?" Severus started up out of his chair, as quickly as he could manage.

"Intruder! The wards is all going haywire! Someone is in the house! No, no," she wailed, baring her teeth which were lengthening noticeably. "Someone is come to hurt the baby! No! Won't hurt Master's baby! Pip kill them first!"

"Now, Pip," warned Dumbledore. "Severus and his baby are here, they are both quite well, I can assure you, there will be no need for killing."

"Grrr," went Pip, startling Molly, who had never seen a house-elf grow so protective when their master's home was under threat before. Kreacher had relied on threatening skulking rather than preparing himself for actual confrontation.

"Who can it be?" Snape wondered aloud, recalling the list of Death Eaters who were still evading capture, plus a dozen or so others who had a grudge against him. He was under no illusions. Very many people wished him harm.

"There is only one way to find out, dear boy," said Dumbledore, pulling his wand from the sleeve of his garish orange robe, looking altogether too excited at the prospect of a skirmish. "And whomever it is, they are about to get more than they bargained for!"

…….

Harry knew he had to work quickly. It had taken him almost half an hour to disable all the boobytrap wards but there had been some odd magical traces which he suspected were remote alarms, though there was no actual noise inside the house.

He was surprised to find himself inside a fairly ordinary, modestly furnished country house, nothing like the gothic mansion he had been expecting. It didn't even have a pretentious name featuring words like 'manor', 'towers' or even 'hall', just the simple address of 9, Maltings Lane. Harry was rather disappointed.

Once inside he headed for the basement, which he reasonably imagined to be the location of Snape's private potions lab and therefore his notes on how best to have one's wicked way with innocent werewolves. But after four attempts, the door still refused to yield. On the fifth attempt, the handle released a foul-smelling green vapour which made Harry immediately cast a bubble-head charm and give up. Cursing, he beat a hasty retreat up the stairs, scratching at the unpleasant rash which had begun to form on his hands.

Time was running out now, for sure. He cast around the living-room until his eyes fell upon a leather-bound notebook lying on a coffee table next to the sofa. Hoping it was a personal diary, Harry snatched it up but was upset to find that it just contained a series of indecipherable lists. Snape was obviously one of those people with ordered, scientific minds who needed to put pros and cons down on paper before making a decision.

How dull, thought Harry, until he found the last-but-two list in the book. His own name was there, along with Remus', and lots of other men of Snape's acquaintance. With a jolt he realised what he was looking at. He let out an explosive laugh. The sneaky git had chosen Remus as the most suitable person to father his brat after ruling out everyone else, including Harry himself! Oh perfect, this was perfect!

"Harry!"

The Boy-who-lived spun around to see Dumbledore staring at him, wand raised and battle-ready, with Mrs Weasley and Snape just behind. The most ferocious-looking house elf he had ever seen was advancing towards him, ears flat against its little head, glaring through slitted eyes and growling. Without a shadow of a doubt, Harry was in big trouble.

"Hi!" he tried a smile. No one smiled back.

"What are you doing in my home, Potter?" spat Snape, folding his arms across his chest as evilly he could manage whilst heavily pregnant.

Harry was not cowed. He brandished the notebook, open at the vital page, so the potions master could see who held the upper hand.

"Oh, Just doing a bit of reading," he shrugged, watching Snape's face drain of all colour as he recognised his list. Harry was exultant. This was, without doubt, one of the finest moments of his life. He had finally got one over the greasy old sod and now Harry and Remus could live happily ever after.

Snape did not remain in shock for long. There was no way he would let this arrogant whelp ruin his Grand Plan. He glanced at the coffee table and saw something Harry had not, something which made him almost laugh out loud in relief. If Harry wanted to play at sneakiness and blackmail, then that was his choice.

At 21 years of age, he really should have known better than to tangle with the master schemer. Snape gave a smirk and pointed to a small sheaf of parchment on the table.

"I see. That explains why we found you in the same the room as the exam paper which you are due to re-sit next week. Unsupervised, uninvited and breaking the law," his eyes bored into Harry as he watched this revelation sink in.

Molly gasped in horror at the implication. Dumbledore strode forward and picked up the papers, holding them up so everyone could see that it was indeed the third year Auror Training Scheme Potions Theory Examination (Second Sitting), which by fortunate chance, Severus had been giving one last proof-read that very morning.

"Wha…!" gaped Harry, elation vanishing. Dumbledore looked scandalised, Snape smug and Molly just about ready to skin him alive.

"Harry James Potter!" she exploded at him like a flock of pre-menstrual harpies. "Were you _cheating!_"

"No, I…" he tried to explain, but was cut off.

"Harry, my boy, I am most disappointed in you," Albus shook his head from side to side sadly.

Severus deliberated his next move carefully. Though he would be able to enjoy the moment when he ruined Potter's career for the rest of his life if he pursued this course, the brat would probably still show the baby list to Lupin, thus utterly screwing up his plans. Five years ago there would have been no contest. Five years ago Snape wallowed in the hurts of the past, lashing out whenever possible to spread his misery far and wide. That was before he had a future. He would not risk his daughter's happiness for the sake of an old grudge.

Besides, if he took the other option, he would be in Dumbledore's good books for the rest of his life, not to mention having a useful hold over Potter. He took a deep breath, still hating what he was about to do.

"Albus, I do not believe Potter came here with the intention of stealing a look at the exam paper," he said evenly. Everyone stared, clearly having expected him to leap in and tear the young man to shreds. Snape glared at Harry, then the notebook, then back at Harry.

Catching on immediately, Harry closed the book and placed it back on the table.

"The professor is right. Until you pointed it out just now, sir, I had no idea the paper was here. Please believe me?" he implored Dumbledore and Mrs Weasley.

"Then what was you up to, sneaking like rat around Master's house!" snarled the elf, who seemed barely able to restrain herself from gouging his eyes out.

"I…I wanted to speak to him, but he would not answer the floo. I thought he was pretending to be out in order to avoid me," he glanced at Snape again, who nodded. That sounded plausible enough. He probably would have gone to great lengths in order to avoid the brat, had he come knocking.

"I see," said the ancient wizard slowly. "Do you swear, Harry, that you were not here to cheat?"

"Yes, sir," he turned an open countenance to Dumbledore, and was relieved to feel the faint brush of Legilimency against his mind. That was the easiest way to prove he was telling the truth.

"Very well," he pronounced, with all the gravity of a judge repealing a death sentence. "But I must reprimand you for breaking and entering property without permission. I understand that you are on leave from the Ministry, otherwise I should be forced to report you."

"Thank you, sir. I apologise unreservedly. I was not thinking. And sorry, Professor Snape," their eyes met for a moment of understanding, the air between them almost crackling with intensity.

Black eyes said: 'You are out of your depth, little boy.'

Green eyes said: 'You won this round, but I can match your machinations any day!'

Then black eyes said; 'Indeed? Watch this.'

"Severus, are you all right?" asked Molly suddenly, as the colour drained from his face for the second time in five minutes. He shook his head weakly and stammered in a wavering voice.

"N...no, I'm afraid I feel r…rather…ah!"

As Snape had hoped, Albus spun round with a lightning-fast 'Arresto Momentum' before he hit the floor and levitated him gently onto the sofa. Pip allowed herself one scream of terror, then vanished to fetch a glass of water, a box of first-aid potions and other useful paraphernalia.

Severus lay back, fluttering his lashes and smiling with self-sacrificing bravery and stroking his fingers over the baby, as the others fussed around him.

"Excuse me, all the excitement must have been too much. My condition makes me delicate," he quavered. Albus and Molly turned to glare accusingly at Harry, who swallowed. Green eyes met black again.

Green eyes said: 'OK, you're good.'

Black eyes said: 'You ain't seen nothing yet, as our dreadful American cousins might say.'

Harry smiled sweetly at Snape, and made a little bow.

"Thank you for being so understanding, sir. I'd better go now and let you get some rest. Remus," he delicately drew out the word, as though savouring every letter, "will be wondering where I am."

Severus was too firmly ensconced in his 'wilting flower' act to risk answering that statement with the sneer it clearly deserved.

Snape's face betrayed none of the jubilation he felt inside. So Potter had shown his hand, and the tug-of-war for Remus could begin in earnest. Had the pregnant wizard been born a Griffindor, he may have felt guilt at the uneven odds – it was two against one after all. The struggle would be most entertaining, not least because the vile brat stood no chance against a wily old veteran and an adorable mini-Lupin.

And it seemed that Severus was not the only one to be excited. Momentarily safe from all the scheming in her adoring Papa's belly, the baby began an anticipatory war-dance.

…….

A/N: Sweet Merlin! Look at all those lovely, long reviews! Thank you my dears! I really appreciate your opinions on my little slashy triangle!

A massive THANK YOU to Oya for, once again, dashing off a nice review within minutes of my posting an update! It's really reassuring to get feedback once I've bared my soul. Have you started writing yourself yet? I couldn't resist writing the list What Would Lucius Do, heh heh! Severus knows it would not do to say this aloud, but he does miss Lucius, in all his beautiful, evil glory.

K Lupin: Yes, I lost my muse for this story for a long time. Think it was after the big shock at the end of HBP. Have got a few ideas now though! I'm glad you have Severus' happiness in mind. Don't worry, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

Arch Nemesis: Battle now engaged! Let slip the dogs of war etc.

AngelTalion: We'll have to wait and see. Nothing good comes easy, does it?

Kate: I confess, I do enjoy Harry-bashing, but I hope I got across that he's not really so evil, just a little confused right now.

Risi: You're right, Harry desperately needs time out. My Severus has never been the open-and-honest coming-clean sort, but you never know. We'll have to see what he has in store for our favourite lycanthrope. Though I am a natural Snupinist, I believe there is a case here for RL/HP, which is why I still haven't made my mind up yet. Be warned, I may well freak out and end up with some SS/HP, just to complicate matters further! (Cackles).

Catsdragon72: Why thank you! I was going to dedicate that last chapter to anyone who has ever made a totally stupid mistake in an exam. I know I have. (Cringes).

Lucidity: (Waves) Ello! Hm, I could be wrong, but I think you may have been guilty of subliminal messaging there. I thought most men used their trouser-brains before the ones in their head? We haven't heard a lot about what Remus thinks lately, so I next time he's due a bit of internal-monologue angst etc.

Anyone actually been to Snape Maltings in Suffolk? Such a great name for a town, I couldn't resist popping in a reference. Sounds like an evil milkshake bar or something, doesn't it?

Thanks for taking the time to read, hope you stay with me x


	8. Bonding battles

Lady Moon slumbered during daylight hours, but still knew how to maker her presence felt.

Remus was too tired to do anything productive, but too irritable to sleep. He lay on top of the bed, fidgeting and changing position every few minutes as the oblivious satellite which ruled his life caused twitching in his limbs and paranoia in his mind, making him snap to alertness at every new sound or scent in the house.

These animal instincts had saved his life and countless others in battle, so he could no longer bring himself to condemn them as harshly as he had in his youth. He reached for the large bar of chocolate on the bedside table and nibbled at it, enjoying the temporary relief of warmth which flooded his insides. Outside, of course, the hair on his arms still itched, his nailbeds still throbbed and his teeth still ached in anticipation of the transformation in a few hours time, but at least he could take a brief moment of cocoa-induced comfort.

Trying to distract himself from the upcoming distress, he let his mind wander to more pleasant matters. The cub. Baby! Baby, he meant the _Baby!_ Merlin knew what Severus would say if he caught Remus referring to his precious child as though she were an animal. Baby. Yes. Damned lycanthropy, clouding his mind already.

There was not long to wait now before he could actually hold her in his arms. The excitement was almost too much to bear. He wondered what sort of person she would grow into. Would she be dark-haired, like Severus, or fair, like him? He stifled a giggle as he thought about the magnificent Snape nose. Would she get that, too? It didn't really matter whether she did or not, she would still be beautiful to Remus.

It was likely that she would be clever, as Severus had already stocked up on books and educational toys to stimulate her mind, and they had discussed the opinions of several leading infant-care books on how to enhance mental development without putting the child under pressure. Severus' ferocious determination that she should never pushed too hard had spoken volumes about the potion master's own childhood, and Remus whole-heartedly agreed. Just as babies arrived when they were ready to arrive, so children's minds developed at their own pace. Neville Longbottom, for example, had struggled through his earlier years at Hogwarts, then had hit sixteen and suddenly got into his stride, graduating with some of the best NEWT grades in his year. A promising career beckoned for the little boy who had been so shy and clumsy that all had despaired of him.

He knew he had begun to fantasise now, but indulged himself anyway. She was certain to be as graceful as Severus. Taking both her fathers into account, she ought to be slim, too. A Griffindor or a Slytherin? Perhaps neither, that didn't really matter, but he would be very, very surprised if she wasn't a witch. It was highly doubtful that she would fail at Potions, or Defence Against the Dark Arts, with one of her fathers being a werewolf and the other so experienced in the most dangerous forms of magic.

She might be the one to finally invent a cure for lycanthropy! Or she might use her Slytherin heritage to become a powerful politician and work against the dreadful prejudice and injustice in the wizarding world. Even for a fantasy, that was pushing it. But what harm could it do? He was distracting himself from his discomfort and it was fun.

He would never dream of hassling the little girl by laying down unreasonable expectations, but who could tell what the future would bring? Had Mrs Dumbledore been aware, the first moment she held a mewling and bloodied Albus, that she had just created the most powerful individual for generations? Had Lily had any inkling of the amazing things tiny Harry would achieve? James had dreamed of fathering another school Quidditch star, and that dream had come true. If only he had lived long enough to find out.

Thinking of James and Lily made him uncomfortable. Had they lived, they could not possibly have approved of the current situation – but had they lived, Harry would have experienced an entirely different life and history would have run an entirely different course. Remus would take care of their son for them. He made the silent promise to the memory of his friends.

He and Harry had only kissed so far, but what kisses they had been! All the emotions which had been bubbling inside Remus for the last few years had swirled madly through his body the minute those velvet lips had touched him. Delight, fear, tenderness, guilt and love, love LOVE! It had been intoxicating. And the wolf had not stirred at all, which was gratifying, given his earlier worries after his wild night with Severus. Harry seemed to get sexier each time Remus looked at him – his eyes a deeper shade of green and his arse even perkier – it was still inconceivable that such a perfect young creature could want to throw his life away on a battered werewolf old enough to be his father.

How badly Harry needed someone to take care of him! He had been through so much. Despite his twenty one years, he still craved the same support and guidance as a child in some areas. For all his magical powers, he was still vulnerable. Remus had tried as best he could to look after the youth as a friend and a mentor, but the job would be so much easier if he was also a lover. During their frank discussions about the tentative relationship, Harry had spoken of his urge to protect Remus, too. They would be partners, equals, taking on life's great struggle side-by-side. It was going to be wonderful.

He would surely come round to the idea of the baby. Harry was such a lovely young man, he would love Remus' daughter the minute he saw her. Assuming Severus allowed him to see her, that is. He buried his face in the pillow in frustration. Why did it all have to be so complicated?

He heard the floo flare in the living room, and Harry calling his name.

"In here," he replied, sitting up and tidying his hair. His heart leaped at the sound of that dear voice, but he would rather the boy did not have to see him in this state.

"Hello," beamed Harry, looking scandalously good in a cut-away red robe and tight jeans. "Oh, you don't look well. Full moon, I suppose?" He strode up to the bed and placed a palm against Remus' forehead. "Can I get you anything, Gorgeous?"

Lupin leaned into the touch and sighed with happiness as Harry removed his hand and pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head.

"No, thank you," an unexpected scent drifted past his nostrils and he looked up sharply. "Why do you smell of Severus' house?"

"Ah," said Harry, turning serious and sitting down on the bed. Remus sniffed again.

"You also smell of stale fear. What on earth had been going on?" he demanded, growing rather harsh as the wolf awoke and began to take an interest.

Harry looked shifty for a moment as he concocted a plausible story.

"I went to speak to him," he lied quickly.

"Why?" growled Lupin, his eyes suddenly more yellow than before.

"About you, of course," Harry smiled, though the hairs on the nape of his neck were all standing on end. "This is a tricky situation, I wanted to work things out."

"So you went ahead without me?" his voice sounded threatening even to his own ears, but the wolf was nudging his human consciousness out of the way. Why had this youngster been near his mate and the cub?

"No, Remus, it wasn't like that!" Harry was alarmed now, and a little aroused by the unusually husky quality of his tone. "Snape and I have a whole history of antagonism. We really need to get over it, for your sake!"

Remus stared at him silently for a moment. Harry swallowed nervously. Merlin, the werewolf was so hot when he was like this! Hopefully he could not smell the dishonesty or there would be trouble.

"And did you get over it?" he asked at last.

"No," pouted Harry. "He threw me out."

Remus nodded. That certainly explained the fear. He could imagine Severus, standing, wand raised, bellowing at Harry to get the hell out of his home. That was enough to cause fear-scent in even the bravest wizard.

"Are you all right?" asked Remus considerately. It had probably taken all of the pregnant man's restraint not to curse Harry into the middle of next week.

For the second time in his life, human-Remus heard the wolf speaking inside his head.

_Forget green-eye whelp! What about mate and cub? Hurt?_

'Good point,' Remus thought back to it. Severus really shouldn't be stressed in his condition.

"Is Severus all right? You shouldn't go upsetting him, you know," he chastised. "It's bad for the baby."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest, hating the fact that the blasted baby had usurped Remus' concern for him again. So much disruption and the thing wasn't even born yet!

"He's fine. I'm fine. We're both fine," he sighed, knowing that it wasn't Remus' fault. He redirected his anger towards the devious man who deserved it. "But I would love a cuddle."

Remus sighed and slipped his arms around the young man, ignoring a mild snort of protest from the wolf.

"Very well, but just a little hug, then you have to leave. I don't want to you to see the transformation," he shuddered. He imagined it to be the least seductive thing you could ever see. There was no way Harry would want him after watching that.

"I've already seen it once," the young man whispered. This could be a major point-scoring area – he knew that Snape's awful childhood experience would make him afraid of anything concerning the change.

"Please don't remind me about that night," he would never forget it. The night he had almost killed Sirius and the children. The second time he had almost killed Snape; this time through his own irresponsibility. What a shameful memory. "Don't take it the wrong way, Harry love. I've developed ways of coping with the trauma over the years and they rely on solitude. I'm not ready to have anyone else there yet. I'm not rejecting you. Please understand. It's not a pleasant experience."

Harry huffed but acquiesced. It would not do to nag Remus. He must provide the perfect antidote to Snape's acidic personality. He must not forget that he was constantly laying the foundations of the most important relationship of his life and must therefore tread very carefully. OK, so the greasy git had a cake in the cauldron, that was his major advantage; but Harry had charms which Snape could never dream of.

He fluttered his lashes at his boyfriend.

"All right, I'll go now. Take care, promise?" he kissed him again. "Love you."  
Remus kissed him back.

"Love you, too."

Harry gently swayed his hips as he walked towards the door, certain that his rear would be watched closely. He certainly had the edge in that department.

…….

Fear made Severus' body simultaneously too hot and too cold, but knew what he had to do. It was a tremendous gamble, but if he pulled it off, he would blow Potter completely out of the stadium. After that afternoon's debacle, he needed to strike before the brat managed to arrange his muddled thoughts and assemble any kind of game-plan.

The moon shone brilliant white in a shimmering black sky as Severus took one last flick through the relevant section of 'Tacuinum Lycanthropis' – the definitive guide to the behaviour of the transformed werewolf – before wiping the sweat from his palms and stepping into the fireplace.

…….

The great grey wolf lifted his head as he heard the intruder trespass into his territory. He grimaced at the aftertaste of the weak-poison in his mouth. Weak-poison made the wolf disorientated and dizzy, but left him the strength to defend himself if necessary. What manner of creature dared to disrespect him thus? He crept towards the door of sleep-den and sniffed.

_Mate! Mate was here! _

He pushed open the door with his snout and peered into the outer-den. Yes, it was Mate. Tall and the colour of night standing on two legs by the burning-door. He smelled of cub-carrying-smell and of fear.

_Fear? Ah, yes. Mate was trespassing and he knew it._

Severus almost fainted at the sight of the furry muzzle appearing in the doorway. Remus' black nostrils twitched and the recognition he saw in the amber eyes of the wolf made him breathe a sigh of relief. It was too early to relax though. Manoeuvring awkwardly because of his bump, Severus lowered himself to the floor and averted his eyes in a submissive gesture. The wolf gave a little whine.

_Mate recognises whose territory this is! What a good mate! Smells good too! And so full of cub!_

The wolf trotted forward, slowly, unthreateningly, wagging his tail so Mate could see he was not upset.

Severus slumped even lower at the sight and allowed Remus to sniff his hands and face. After a moment, he carefully began to stroke the soft fur. The wolf leaned into him and they nuzzled and stroked each other for a few minutes before the wolf began to yawn. The instant wolfsbane was obviously working well. Severus thanked every deity he could think of for the fact.

He stood after a few attempts and waddled to the sofa.

_What? Where? Oh, floor too hard. Must find soft place to be safe with cub. Mate is a clever bitch to take care of cub like that. Mine! I must protect them!_

Severus watched the huge creature inspect the room with every sense he had, before padding back to the sofa and curling up on the floor beneath his mate's head. He trailed a finger through the lovely warm fur and ran a weary hand over his own face.

He must have been mad to put the child at risk like this! All the texts assured him that werewolves were no different from any other creature with the urge to protect their young overwhelming all others, but it had still taken a tremendous amount of courage to confront his phobia head-on and in his weakened state. The rational part of his brain, which had been taking a lot of long lunches in the light of his recent erratic hormonal episodes, knew that Lupin had been fastidious about the administration of his wolfsbane ever since that horrific night at the Shrieking Shack. But nothing could ever erase the terrifying memory of claws, teeth and snarling in a confined space beneath the ground in that same place twenty years earlier.

The gamble had succeeded though. Lupin's wolf was clearly attached to its cub, and would make sure that the human would be physically unable to desert her completely. Let him shag Potter or as many other people as liked. Snape had just made certain that their daughter would be more important than any of them.

That was well worth the fear.

…….

The morning after full moon, Remus was used to being woken by the agony of his body twisting and snapping back into his human form. He was ready for the pain, sweat, blood and spasms as they kicked in that morning. He was not ready for the gentle hand carding through his hair afterwards.

"Shhh, Gorgeous, it's all right. All over soon. Shhh," a voice crooned softly, pulling a warm blanket around his broken body. Still feeling a little bit lupine, Remus sniffed the air to try and identify the other person in the room, but just as his senses were hyperactive the night before the change, so they were dull and useless the next day. All that happened was someone brought a handkerchief to his nose and instructed him to blow.

Cracking open an eye, he made out a blurred version of Harry, hovering devotedly over him. He managed a small smile.

"Morning," greeted Harry, gazing down in adoration as though he wasn't in a disgusting state. "I've made you some hot chocolate. Would you like it?"

Remus nodded dumbly. That sounded like the best offer anyone had ever made him.

Harry wrapped his steady hands around the older man's trembling ones and helped him to take a sip. Unable to restrain the groan of pleasure at the feeling of chocolately goodness warming his heart and soul, he let his head fall back.

Something was not right. His bed was an odd shape this morning. He looked around in puzzlement and found they were in his sitting-room. Harry seemed to understand his confusion.

"Yes, I thought you always stayed on your bed. When I came in you were on the floor in here, so I levitated you onto the sofa," he explained.

"Thank you," he croaked. "I don't know why I came out here. I never remember what the wolf does."

"Don't worry, Gorgeous," Harry soothed, taking a sip of chocolate himself before bringing the cup to the werewolf's lips. Somehow the little gesture of sharing the same mug was wonderfully intimate, especially coming from a man who could witness the damage done to his skinny old body and still call him 'Gorgeous'.

Remus decided that he could get used to Harry looking after him.

…….

"Severus, my boy, you look as though you haven't slept," frowned Dumbledore, fussing around him with blankets and teacups. He placed a hand on one of Snape's elevated ankles and drew in a sharp breath. "Your feet are like ice, child! Let me see…" He rummaged through the pockets of his robes until he pulled out a startlingly yellow and purple striped woollen ball, which turned out to be a pair of thick, knitted socks. "My emergency pair," he informed the potions master conspiratorially as he separated them and applied one to each swollen foot. Not having the strength to protest, Severus allowed the coddling. Wiggling his toes experimentally, he found them surprisingly cosy.

"Thank you, Albus," he sighed, sleekly falling into 'truth stretching' mode. "You are correct, I have not slept much. The combination of anxiety and being so big does not make for a comfortable night."

"Is there no potion you can take?" asked Dumbledore, the image of concern. Snape shook his head violently.

"I shall not risk my daughter's health for the sake of a few hours dozing," he sneered. "I will not dose her up with complicated magical compounds when she is scarcely bigger than a number two cauldron."

The old wizard smiled gently, comparing the maternal creature reclining before him with the stiff and grouchy man who prided himself on his hatred of the world. The indignity of having garish socks forced upon him would have had the potions master reaching for his wand in days gone by. But no hex was forthcoming today, doubtless because he was devoting all his magical energies towards gestating the baby. Despite the tiredness, Severus was looking plump and content. Like Molly before him, Albus concluded that this accidental pregnancy was the very best thing to happen to the troubled young man.

"I wanted to speak to you about Remus, dear boy," he broached the topic delicately, dreading any more fits of tears or fainting. When Snape merely nodded, he continued. "My initial reaction to your news was to condemn the relationship. Upon reflection, I would like to be in possession of all the facts before I wade in and start interfering."

Two black eyebrows shot up a pale forehead in surprise.

"Thinking before you act?" Severus knew the drill. Both wizards enjoyed a little gentle sparring. "You will be attending ceremonial functions in green and silver robes, next!"

Albus bobbed out his tongue then grew solemn and twinkled as though about to deliver a tenet of great wisdom.

"Hack me into as many bits as you like, Severus, I assure you that each one will be red to the core!"

Snape rolled his eyes expressively.

"Do not tempt me, old man. How long did it take you to think of _that_ stunning piece of wit?" he groaned.

"Actually, it was one of Minerva's," Dumbledore grinned.

"Oh, taking up plagiarism for your retirement, as well as selling socks and sexually harassing Madam Puddifoot?" snorted Snape. Dumbledore raised both palms to the ceiling.

"There really aren't enough hours in the day, my boy," he smiled.

They continued the good-natured squabble for a while until Albus drew the conversation back to the main issue.

Severus grew thoughtful. What exactly did he want from Lupin? A cheerful and outgoing second father to his child, without doubt. But what else?

"I am not certain, Albus," he sighed. "It would be more convenient and better for the baby if we lived together as partners. With Pip's assistance, I believe we could deal with the lycanthropy issue and set up a workable domestic arrangement. However, Lupin is of a sentimental disposition. I doubt that I am capable of providing the necessary affection."

"You could live with him, but you could not love him?" Dumbledore translated.

"Precisely," agreed Snape, marvelling at the change in his own disposition. He had always thrived on silence and solitude, yet here he was, openly admitting that he could share his life with one of those blasted boisterous Griffindors. Anything for the baby. Anything at all.

"Yet there is obviously an element of attraction between you two," he gestured towards the bulging round abdomen. "She is living proof of that."

"A drunken evening," he said dismissively. "Nothing capable of competing with the adulation of a pretty young hero."

Dumbledore said nothing. Odd things were afoot here. He would talk to the others first of course, but as far as he could tell, this situation was crying out for some good old-fashioned meddling.

…….

A/N: Back again! Thank you once again for a hugely insightful set of mini-essay reviews! It's lovely to know people are really thinking about my scribblings. I really appreciate it.

Duj: Thanks for your kind words about this and its sad prequel – I had to write this sequel, I just couldn't leave it there. I'm delighted you are enjoying a genre you don't usually read! Re: your later comments. Shhh! My thoughts exactly! Those points will crop up later, along with the word 'honoured'! Harry, of course, will not get it at all.

Risi: I know, couldn't resist giving Fawkes a personality. I love Snarry but have no clue how to write it. Good point about Dobby (hands over a cookie for paying attention), not decided yet, but another person who was present at the miscarriage will certainly make an appearance…

Oya: So was I when I wrote it! I'm terrible for 'acting' as I type. My colleagues must think I'm bonkers.

Lucidity: Molly and Albus adore Harry, so who knows which way they'll swing? Someone for Severus? (Cackles).

AngelTalion: 'The Death Eater of Lurve'? That's a brilliant title! Write a fic! Write a fic!

Phinea Rogue: (Curtseys) Thank you madam.

ExcessivelyPerky: Don't write the brat…er sorry, I mean…Harry off just yet. And Severus keeps all his lists in his little book in case questions his own decisions later on. He's that kind of person. By the way, I had you in mind when I wrote Molly clutching Severus to her ample bosom in that last chapter! x

'Tacuinum Lycanthropis' – Bad Latin Alert, whoop whoop! Table of the Werewolf, or at least I hope so. Apologies to all you clever scholars if not x

Coming up: A bouquet, a letter and a (wince) medical examination. Or at least I think so…


	9. Biology and Psychology

Refreshed disclaimer: Characters and situations all belong to JK Rowling, except Healer Benson, who is the product of my nasty little mind. I am making no profit, merely mucking about.

The recap at the beginning summarises the events in 'Secrets of an Insignificant Slytherin', which took place before this story was, er, conceived.

…….

Jeremy Benson was 98 years old. He had been the Malfoy family's private healer all his professional life. He was supremely competent and discreet as a corpse, which was the reason he had always got away with charging exorbitant rates for the frequent illegal or immoral duties he performed. The Malfoys, and their associates whom he was occasionally asked to attend, regarded his fees as cheaper than the blackmail which would undoubtedly result from anyone else, and his practical knowledge of the Dark Arts made him supremely useful at undoing the most unfortunate of curses. Their trust in him was absolute.

When Lucius died and Draco fled to South America to escape justice at the end of the second Voldemort war, Benson married a 29 year old Swedish Playwizard pin-up called Astrid and retired to a small Greek island, occasionally appearing in court as a well-paid expert medical witness. Mostly his days consisted of eating olives from his own grove and watching Astrid swim naked in their private cove. He enjoyed his life very much.

He had been surprised to receive Snape's letter. Naturally, he remembered treating Lucius' lanky fifteen year old boytoy that terrible night when he had brewed the dark sleeping-potion, causing him to miscarry Lucius' baby without even knowing that he had been pregnant. Young Severus had no way of knowing that he was one of the select few males capable of bearing children, so he'd had no reason to heed the warnings that Somnulus – twice as effective as Dreamless Sleep and brewable in a fraction of the time – should be used with extreme caution by witches of childbearing age.

Twenty five years later Benson had been impressed by Snape's reasoning in the letter which arrived out of the blue one glorious Greek morning. The former Death Eater was pregnant again, through conscious choice this time. He quoted the healer's own warning about being treated 'like a laboratory rat' because of his abnormality, and made a rather interesting offer.

Snape openly admitted he could not afford Benson's fees, but would trust no other on this hugely important matter, and certainly had no wish to attend the free National Healing Service's ante-natal clinics with scores of simpering witches whispering about him and tipping off the Daily Prophet about his freak biology. He proposed that Jeremy waived his charges and in return could publish his account of the pregnancy and birth, mentioning no names, of course.

Benson put down his freshly squeezed orange juice and his freshly-squeezed wife as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Though everyone knew that male pregnancy was possible and had happened on a few occasions in the past, the literature about it was woefully lacking. To go down in history as the first healer to discuss the matter sensibly was an attractive thought – he would earn immortality! His would be the definitive text on the subject! He would possibly also receive honours for research into this delicate and unknown field. All for the sake of a few months of examining and treating an intelligent wizard capable of debating each development with him, as well as providing his own hypotheses.

Of course it would be difficult, with no guarantee that the child or its carrier-father would survive the birth, but he would be sure to make Snape sign something allowing him to publish all the same. What an amazing opportunity. He had wasted no time in agreeing.

Several months later, the patient lay on his bed for the regular check-up, torn three ways between excitement, curiosity and embarrassment. Severus knew that the examinations had to be thorough, as no one knew exactly what his body was doing as the baby grew, and they had discovered some peculiar structures and chemical fluctuations which Benson was dying to write up in his book.

"So when did this appear?" asked the healer, sliding a gloved hand down between Snape's legs. As usual, Snape was determined to remain impassive, and limited his show of discomfort to a quick flare of the nostrils.

"Six weeks ago, if you recall, I mentioned an intermittent burning sensation in the area. Then this morning I discovered this," he swallowed as casually as he could while the old man continued his explorations.

"Fascinating," he mused, reaching for his camera. "May I?"

Snape scowled and pulled the sheet up over his head.

"You know the arrangement. You will adjust your prints to maintain absolute anonymity."

"Naturally, naturally," he took a series of pictures while Snape tried to imagine he was somewhere else, without an old healer perched between his thighs photographing his intimate areas. "Thank you. Now, are we agreed that this is a temporary kind of birth-canal?"

"I can see no other purpose for the opening," Severus blushed as he realised the innuendo in this declaration. Fortunately, Benson was too absorbed in palpating his abdomen to spot it.

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "I assume that the channel will stretch during labour the same way as a vagina would. However, your hips are a good deal narrower than those of a female, which may cause problems."

"What sort of problems?" asked Severus, feeling the vague unease which manifested itself whenever the birth was mentioned. Neither healer nor father-to-be had any idea how the baby was planning on arriving, though the recent appearance of the birth-canal suggested one method. One painful, bloody method.

"I would like to perform frequent scans on your pelvis to see if it begins to change shape gradually, or of the bones will merely break during labour," he began excitedly, but catching Snape's glare he switched into reassuring-healer mode. "Do not concern yourself. We will have the very best pain-control available when the time comes. I will monitor you and the baby very closely – at the first sign of any serious distress I'll have her out of there in a trice. She won't get stuck."

Snape said nothing, but began to rub circles over his swollen abdomen to calm himself.

"Severus," Benson continued, resting a gnarled hand on his shoulder. "I delivered Lucius by section within seconds of realising that he was being throttled by his own umbilical cord. And monitoring spells have improved by leaps and bounds since then. I know that you trust me. You would not have involved me at all if you did not."

Severus nodded reluctantly. Anxiety was normal, all the baby books said so, but women had been spawning freely and passing on their knowledge of how best to survive the process since the dawn of time. What if he had got this far only for tragedy to strike at the finishing-post? He knew that if this child did not survive, then, irrespective of any physical damage, neither would he. She was his future. His life.

"Are we finished with the undignified part?" he asked Benson wearily. He was itching to get his underwear back on and stop being messed with.

"Absolutely, Severus. I think I will return the day after tomorrow for another look at that birth-canal, and to scan your pelvis," he cast a cleansing charm on his hands. "Now we're ready for the fun! Did you say that the other father was waiting downstairs?"

"Yes," said Severus, shuffling into a less embarrassing position. "Remember what I told you. Not a word about last time, please?"

…….

Pip appeared in the sitting-room with a pop and greeted Remus with a little bow.

"Master Snape says you is being welcome upstairs now," she informed him.

He thanked her and climbed the stairs, knocking carefully on what he hoped was Severus' bedroom door and waiting to be granted entrance. He nervously wiped the sweat from his palms on his trousers, unbearably excited. A voice called 'come' and he went in.

Healer Benson reached out to shake his hand, looking old and frail but with a tremendous determination burning in his eyes. Severus was sitting up on the bed in a loose-fitting robe, looking poised and serene with his arms snugly around the bump. Each time he saw the potions master, Remus was struck by his weight gain - his cheeks were fuller and he had a suggestion of a double chin, his whole face had developed a much healthier colour and his hair had grown much longer. It suited him. For the first time, Remus also noticed the outline of a pair of small, perky breasts and wondered why he had not expected that. It made sense that if his body was able to produce a child that it should also be able to feed one.

He gazed in wonder for a moment, lost for the umpteenth time in the sheer miraculousness of the situation, before receiving a blood-freezing glare from Snape.

"Stop staring at my tits," he threatened in his softest, most dangerous tone. Remus went beet red, not having been on the receiving end of that instruction for many years.

"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling like a hormone-driven teenage boy.

"Ready?" Snape asked Benson, who nodded and pulled out his wand, speaking a complicated incantation.

A translucent gold-coloured bubble appeared at the tip of the wand and slowly grew until it was slightly bigger than Snape's round belly. He moved it over the bump then gently lowered the wand until the sphere completely surrounded it. Benson muttered another spell and the sphere crackled for a moment, making Snape give a little squeak of surprise which he tried to turn into a cough.

"Yes, it tickles a bit, doesn't it?" smiled the healer.

Remus watched with rapt attention. As Benson raised the wand the golden ball rose with it, this time containing a three-dimensional image of their unborn baby.

"Oh!" exclaimed Severus in delight.

Remus was powerless to stop the tears from running down his cheeks as he stared and stared and stared. There she was. Tiny and perfect and curled up with her little hands in front of her face as though playing peek-a-boo.

"Now, gentlemen," admonished Jeremy, when he decided the awed silence had gone on long enough. "If you are this moved by the sight of the scan, how will you react when she actually arrives?"

They both laughed. Remus wiped the tears on a sleeve, making Snape snort and hand him a handkerchief, muttering about ill-mannered Griffindors.

"We'll be hopeless," admitted Lupin, unable to stop staring at the image of his little girl.

Benson had to stop himself from nodding in agreement.

"Healer Benson, is there any way to record this image?" asked Remus, suddenly realising he needed a memento of the amazing sight.

"Certainly. Do you have something to put it in? A ring? A locket, perhaps?" he suggested.

Lupin rummaged inside his robe and found the small gold pocket-watch Sirius had given him during the clear-out at Grimmauld Place. It had been battered – the Black family crest almost worn away completely – and it only worked sporadically, but it was still oddly beautiful. At the time he had compared it with Sirius himself and Sirius, highly amused, had insisted he keep it. Trying not to think of his late friend's reaction to the keepsake being used to hold a picture of a baby Snape, he handed it over, and Benson reduced the image and trapped it inside the mechanism at the back of the watch.

"Now I can carry her with me, too!" Lupin beamed. Snape scowled and folded his arms petulantly, carefully manoeuvring them between the bump and his sensitive new boobs.

"You wouldn't cope with the real thing for more than five minutes!" he snorted.

Remus had to admit that this was probably true. Severus was huge and ungainly now, clearly in a lot of discomfort despite his obvious delight with his condition. It must take courage to go through with such an unlikely situation, and he marvelled at the dour man's determination to carry the baby through to term when it would have been so much easier to ask Healer Benson for a termination. He had shown no hints of parental instinct before. After watching him in action at Hogwarts, Lupin had always thought that he hated children. The man was a real enigma.

Prompted by some instinct he did not recognise, he leaned forward and kissed the bulge, then the pregnant man's cheek.

"I know," he smiled in awe. "You're amazing."

…….

"Professor Dumbledore!" exclaimed Harry happily, putting down his quill. "How nice to see you! Please, have a seat." He pushed piles of parchment and a dirty plate off the well-loved chair so the older wizard could sit down.

"But I'm disturbing your revision, dear boy. Shall I come back later?" Dumbledore was under no illusions about the way young men lived when left to their own devices, but still flinched as something started moving of its own volition deep inside one of the untidy piles.

"No!" He said, quickly, desperate for any respite from Chinn's Double Principle of Emulsification. "You're a very welcome distraction. Trust me! Sorry about the mess. I do the cooking and Neville does the tidying, but he's away visiting his Grandma at the moment."

Albus said nothing, but propped his feet up on what he hoped was a footstool and surveyed the students' dwelling. Framed photographs of familiar faces smiled or grimaced out at him from every turn. Tucked in the corner of the mirror above the fireplace was one of the Ronald Weasley being escorted out of the Three Broomsticks and vomiting spectacularly in the gutter, over and over again, while Ginevra, Fred and George all pointed and laughed. That unpleasant example of anti-social behaviour reminded Albus of something which had been bothering him.

"You haven't seen Fawkes, I suppose?" he asked, without much hope. The phoenix had been acting up even worse than usual over the past week, staying out until the early hours, heckling passers-by and attacking any other familiars who dared to venture into the shop with their owners. Fang would be lucky not to be scarred for life by the fire-mauling he had received. Even Hagrid's infinite wisdom on the subject of foul fowl had been unable to come up with a remedy for the bird's increased yobbishness. Or perhaps he knew, but was disinclined to help after seeing his beloved boarhound whimpering like a puppy made to spend its first night alone in the kitchen. But now he had disappeared completely. Albus wondered if he should have paid more attention to dear Madam Puddifoot's threats about barbeques.

Harry shook his head quickly, not in the least sorry to miss out on a meeting with the scourge of the skies. He didn't understand it either – the phoenix had been so fond of him during his schooldays, even saving his life after the Basilisk bit him in his second year. Now he was retired, he seemed to regard Harry with the same contempt he afforded everyone else.

"How goes the study?" asked Dumbledore, returning to the matter hand. Good old-fashioned meddling.

"I'll be glad when it's finished, sir," he admitted. "Once the exam is over tomorrow afternoon, I can start thinking about what I want to do with my sabbatical. I need to discuss it with Remus."

"Ah, yes, your special understanding with Remus," Dumbledore twinkled merrily, pleased to incite a fierce blush on Harry's cheeks.

"He's great," he mumbled, looking away.

"Yes, he's a fine man indeed. He's suffered so much over the years. You care for him deeply, do you not?" he asked gravely.

"Yes," answered Harry, with conviction. "He understands me like no one else. He's caring and gorgeous and I love him."

Dumbledore smiled, careful to keep any hint of his concerns off his face.

"That's wonderful, dear boy! To be so certain of your feelings, I mean. So many young people in your position could become confused in such a situation."

"Confused," Harry frowned. "What is there to be confused about? I adore Remus. It's perfectly simple."

"Quite right, quite right!" Albus hastily agreed, thoroughly enjoying the game he was playing. He began fiddling with something sharp which his long fingers had found down the side of the armchair, but hastily stopped when he saw it was an old toenail. He folded his hands safely in his lap. "I always said you were an amazing young man. So many less headstrong people would be concerned that they were mixing up their feelings in your place. Well done, Harry."

"Well done?" Harry was delighted that Dumbledore understood so well. He had been afraid at first that he would disapprove of his relationship with Remus, perhaps giving him a lecture on the age gap. But he was becoming rather lost at the turn the conversation was taking. "Well done for what?"

"Why, for so successfully rationalising your emotions, of course," he smiled, noticing the slight frown cross Harry's face. "Not an easy thing to do. Remus being the closest thing you have to a father. A bosom friend of your own father, in fact, and so deeply fond of your godfather, too. He has loved you since you were born, even if you did not know it at the time. Thanks to your dreadful upbringing, you were not aware of unconditional love until rather late in life. But I waffle on like the old fool that I am, Harry. What I am trying to say, is that I am tickled pink that you are mature enough to take all of your tumultuous feelings for Remus into account, and make the rational decision to become his lover."

Harry just blinked, unknowingly doing a credible impersonation of a grounded trout.

"Oh, dear boy, I've mixed things up," sighed Albus. "Let me start again. Congratulations on managing to suppress your natural adoration of your only surviving parental figure enough to decide that you are ready for an adult relationship with him." He leaned toward the confused young man conspiratorially. "I admit that I found him rather sexy when he was younger."

He left feeling incredibly pleased with himself, Harry still looking owlish and bewildered in his chair. His suspicions had been correct. Harry had no idea what was going on inside his own head. Though Dumbledore felt slightly guilty for setting the dragon in the paddock, he knew that these issues had to be addressed if everyone was going to come through this with their hearts intact.

Harry returned to his desk with a puzzled expression, wondering, not for the first time, if Dumbledore might be one chaser short of a team. What did he mean by 'rationalising his emotions'? There was no such conflict in his mind.

He loved Remus! Harry knew about love. Love was the only reason he had not been murdered at eighteen months of age. Love was the power that the Dark Lord knew not. Love was all you needed. Love was the drug. Love lifts us up where we belong.

Oh yes, Aunt Petunia had listened to Heart FM throughout his childhood. He had heard all about it.

He wanted to make Remus' life easier, to look after him, to make him proud, to light up his life. The there was the matter of the lust sparked by those kisses! Merlin, they fired Harry's blood and sent unbelievable urges through his body. If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss, that's where it is. (Oh yeah.)

Kissing Remus was unlike kissing anyone else, even if you discounted the whole moustache thing. Kissing Cho had been an exploration of how the thing was done. Ginny had always been more of a mate who liked to share a drunken snog. The 'Potter Groupies' as Ron called the girls who giggled and waved at him in bars, or the 'Auror Groupies' as he preferred to consider them, had each been fun and extremely pleasant in the short term, but there was always the suggestion that any kissing was a formality to be undertaken before the main event could begin.

But Remus smouldered, tasting like chocolate, milky tea and like _home_. Kissing Remus was a mixture of putting on a comfy pair of slippers and having your soul smashed into a million flaming shards by the power of love.

Dumbledore was right, he considered at last. He ought to be proud of himself for having worked out so young this emotion which had moved grown men to tears or worse, to poetry, down through the millennia. The old man had barely mentioned the age gap. He supposed that when you were nudging 160, a mere twenty years did not seem so great.

Harry was glad that he hadn't mentioned the dratted baby either. He obviously did not consider it important. Perhaps he would talk some sense into Remus on the subject. Snape had always been an anti-social old git, so it was hard to imagine him wanting anyone else hanging around on a regular basis. Harry couldn't help but grind his teeth at the thought of the former Death Eater luring Remus into bed. The world was full of men. Why did he have to pick Harry's? He reflected once again on the list he had found, neatly rejecting every other adult male as inferior to Remus. Whoever would have thought he and Snape would agree on anything?

Something else he had read in the list came drifting back to him. He had paid no attention to it the first time around, but suddenly he realised that it was hugely significant.

_Reason first baby died._

First baby? Snape had already had a baby.

And the baby had died.

Somehow, Remus had killed it.

Harry clutched at the table in shock. He wondered what on earth had happened. An accident, surely, there was no way sweet little Remus would harm anyone, much less a child. But rightly or wrongly, Snape considered him responsible and had chosen him to create the replacement.

That short statement raised so many questions in his mind which needed answering. When had Snape had his first baby? Whose was it? Why did it die? He had to find out. He had to know. He had to tell Remus. He had to…

Harry shook his head violently and picked up his quill. He had to get on with his revision.

…….

Snape had switched from halloumi to feta. He ate it soaked in chilli-flavoured olive oil and sprinkled with crispy bits of bacon, balancing the plate on his bump. He hoped the baby would not mind being used as a table, as her father had been unable to get close enough to real tables for some time.

He was pleased with Lupin's reaction to the three-dimensional scan. The werewolf had gone off clutching the image in his old watch and beaming like an idiot, clearly dying to show it off to his rotten friends, the image of a doting daddy. His full-moon gamble had worked, thank Merlin.

Severus had not decided whether or not he wanted people to know about the circumstances of the baby's birth yet. She was bound to experience lots of negative attention when people found out that she had two fathers, even before they realised the identity of the unpopular one of those fathers. He could put up with any amount of ridicule himself, and always had done, but he hated the idea of his little girl being bullied by ignorant people through his fault.

On the other hand, the whole reason he had chosen Lupin for this task was because he would be able to socialise the child and use his easy affability to win her friends and contacts. People had to know that she was Lupin's daughter, and there was no way Snape was going to deny his paternity – after all, this whole business was his idea, not to mention all the hardships he had suffered carrying her. Besides, the wizarding world was too small and gossip-driven to keep any secret for long.

Facing facts, the earlier the secret broke, the better. Maybe people would have grown used to the idea by the time the little one started school. He sighed heavily. Miracles do happen. His own situation was proof of that.

He was started from his thoughts by a sudden thud at the window, and looking up he saw that some kind of flying bush had apparently flung itself against the glass. His wand was in his hand before he had even blinked, but Pip was there first, blasting at the threat with a sizzling shot of elven magic. The apparition hit the ground outside with an audible rustling squawk. Snape raised his eyebrows as Pip disappeared to investigate. Whatever the thing was, it didn't sound too frightening. He did not lower his wand though.

She returned a second later looking rather sheepish, holding a ruffled owl and a huge bouquet of red snap-gryphons.

"Someone is sending master pretty flowers," she explained, rather self consciously, trying to calm the outraged bird. "There be no nasty things in them. Pip is checking already."

"You are a good elf, Pip," he said, meaning it. He had momentarily allowed himself to forget that there were greater threats to the baby's safety than hurtful comments, with a fair amount of maniacs holding grudges against him. But Pip was here to protect them both. He was immensely grateful for that fact.

He scowled at the flowers suspiciously. Who on earth would be sending him romantic gifts?

…….

Dumbledore had intended to go straight to Remus' house after sowing the seed of doubt in Harry's mind, but he ended up popping back to Cosy Toes to check if Fawkes had come home first.

He was aware that the bird had become rather excitable on their retirement from school, taking a more active role in Hogsmeade life than the other villagers would wish, their thinly-veiled glee on hearing he was missing had told him that much. The magical links between a wizard and his familiar were profound, and after a century in Fawkes' company, Albus was lost without him.

Opening the front door, the silence of the little shop spoke volumes. The phoenix did not 'do' silent. Albus had not noticed until his disappearance, but Fawkes was always whistling, trilling to himself, shuffling about on his perch or getting in the way of whatever the old wizard was trying to do. Without the constant bustle, their home was as quiet as the tomb and Albus began to feel cold and alone.

After the strains of the wars, it had been a tremendous relief to realise his dream of setting up Cosy Toes and living the life of a village shopkeeper, visiting friends and welcoming former students and colleagues who dropped in to see him. He had considered it to be the perfect existence, the only drama arising from his encounters with Madam Puddifoot, or the occasional irate owner of an incinerated tool-shed.

He had never seriously considered wooing the tea-shop owner. He pestered her largely because she reacted so wonderfully, though not as spectacularly as dear Severus used to, and because he knew how much she enjoyed telling her friends that he was pursuing her. He wasn't certain how he would react if she ever accepted any of his advances. He had been a bachelor all his life, which was a very long time indeed.

The oppressive stillness of the shop turned his normally merry thoughts morbid, making him wonder if perhaps it was time to die. It would not be suicide exactly, because he was well aware that his natural time had been up years ago; but like all positive thinkers, he succeeded because he thought he could. He had seized life by its nether regions some time in his early nineties and had stubbornly refused to let go until he was quite ready.

Was he ready now?

Alone and without a clear purpose, he seriously considered tying up his affairs and releasing his hold, until something jabbed him sharply in his left buttock. Hissing a good, juicy curse, he reached underneath himself and found his knitting needles and half a yellow fluffy baby bootee he had been making for the little Lupin-Snape when she arrived. It was a complicated pattern, and he frequently went wrong and had to undo the stitches, but it would be worth the struggle when he saw the look of horror on Severus' face. It really was incredibly _yellow_.

He chuckled to himself. No, he was not quite ready to go yet. He had to get that boy and his child settled first.

Banishing his blues for the moment, he picked up the needles, letting the clicking sound fill the house as he considered his next move. Yes, there was no need to go dying with so much meddling still to do!

…….

A/N: Sorry to finish on a down-beat, but Fawkes' desertion has hit Albus hard. Wonder what he's up to? And where did those flowers come from?

You darling reviewers! Thank you so much, not only for reading, but also for bothering to write such in-depth responses! You are making me think about the developments in this story, that's why I can't seem to stop updating it. Please keep your comments coming, my lovelies!

Hope you don't mind Healer Benson – he's my recurring Original Character. Discreet, unprincipled and in it for the money. All you could wish for in a health professional!

Heart FM is a real muggle radio station. I think its name leaves you in no doubt about the kind of music played. Their afternoon DJ is called Nick Snape, a fact which I have been dying to pop in somewhere ever since finding out our Severus was a half-blood. A hated muggle cousin who DJs pop love-songs for a living, oh I can see it now. But you're not allowed to include real people here. Tut.

As far as I know - "All you need is love" & "Love is the drug" are the property of whoever owns the Beatles stuff (Jacko, isn't it?). "Up where we belong" is Joe Cocker's and "The shoop shoop song" was written by Rudy Clark. Not mine anyway. The silly love medley idea is blatantly stolen from Baz Luhrmann's "Moulin Rouge". Thank you.

Yes, Harry and Neville live together. But not like that.


	10. Happy Bloody Valentine's Day

It was Friday lunchtime and The Leaky Cauldron was buzzing with weekend high spirits. Tom the landlord had a buy-one-get-one-free offer on some Bavarian-style butterbeer he had picked up on the cheap, and his jolly punters recognised a bargain when they saw one.

"Harry," admonished Hermione in the tone she reserved for telling off close friends or family. "I know you're not working at the moment, but a liquid lunch is never a good idea! Have a Dragonherd's Pie to go with your drink, they look nice."

"They look burnt," he corrected, licking froth from his chops with the satisfaction of a man enjoying his pint.

"They're _supposed _to! Oh, honestly!" she checked her watch. Unfortunately there was still a good twenty minutes to go before her next lecture. She truly enjoyed Harry's company on the occasional day when they were both free at the same time, but the boisterous atmosphere of the pub would certainly give her a headache for the rest of the afternoon. "Oh, look. There's Tonks!"

Harry spluttered and tried to look inconspicuous. This would have been more successful if Hermione hadn't been standing up and waving. Tonks spotted them and made her way through the crowd as only a senior auror in a pub full of shady characters can. People actually flung themselves out of her way.

"Wotcher," she smiled at them both. Hermione leaned in for a hug while Harry wiped his hand on his robes and offered it for shaking. "Busy day - I can't stay. I just came to say good afternoon to Auror Potter." She turned and left, noting that the room was considerably emptier than when she had arrived.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, puzzled. "Why did she come all this way to say hello?"

"Auror Potter!" Harry had gone rigid all over. "Did she say _Auror_ Potter?"

"Yes! Oh Harry! You passed!" They leaped around in delight for a second before Harry came to his senses and dashed out of the pub after his boss. He caught up with her outside Madam Malkin's, where the proprietress had engaged her in a rant about some extravagantly rude graffiti which had been treated with a dark charm to make it impossible to remove.

"…lowering the tone! No one can do anything to it!" She prodded the auror accusingly in the chest.

"I see your problem, Maggie, but it's really not my department…" Tonks looked up at Harry with pleading eyes. He grinned and strode forward purposefully.

"Ma'am, you are wanted immediately! A very important matter! Good day, Madam Malkin!" he flashed a charming smile at the fashion designer, who flushed and giggled coyly at him.

"Ooh, Mr Potter, I do declare you get more handsome every day!" she reached a hand towards his face as though about to pinch his cheek. He stepped back abruptly.

"Chief Auror Tonks, Ma'am," he persisted. "You must come with me!"

They fled, Tonks expressing eternal gratitude.

"I really passed the potions paper?" he asked breathlessly as they sped down the alley.

"Seventy-seven per cent. Well done!" she congratulated him warmly. "I accepted your concerns about the animosity between yourself and Professor Snape, particularly as it was impossible to conceal the identity of the only candidate to resit, so I duplicated your exam paper and gave one copy to Snape and one to Professor Hardtbrind."

"What happened?" Harry asked excitedly, hoping the greasy git had been caught trying to screw up Harry's life.

"Hardtbrind gave you seventy-six, Snape gave you seventy-eight. My sources tell me that since reading your answer to question three, they are now engaged in a vehement professional squabble about the variances in potency of Aberdyfi winceroot or the stuff grown in Ynyslas."

"Hold on, Aberdyfi and Ynyslas are only about a mile apart aren't they? On opposite sides of the same estuary?"

Tonks shrugged.

"Some magical vegetation is location-specific. It doesn't generally cause much trouble, but when you get to the Professors' level of knowledge, these little things are important. I always consult an expert before getting involved." She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. Hard. "I'm so pleased you made it. Any thoughts on what you will do on your year out?"

"Not yet," he confessed, having been more focussed on Remus than himself of late.

Many hours later, neither Harry, nor Neville, nor Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, Bob, Gilda or Bihranti knew how they ended up in the "Spark" – Puddlemere's tackiest nightclub. The leading theory blamed all the celebratory drinks. Hermione later swore that she would never, ever have danced so lewdly to the Weird Sisters' latest hit 'It's not my wand, baby, I'm really pleased to see you', and certainly never whilst standing on a table. Unfortunately, subsequent photographic evidence proved otherwise.

Harry knew he was totally wasted, but was so jubilant that he really didn't care.

"I love you guys," he beamed, launching himself across the twins' laps. "You're the bestest friends a bloke could have. Seriously, I love you forever and ever and ever."

Fred and George, in much the same condition as the MLE's newest auror, righted him a little too enthusiastically and accidentally propelled him onto the neighbouring table.

Several drinks went flying along with Harry's glasses, and Harry found himself lying on a sticky floor, staring up at a very burly, very blurry wizard. He swallowed. A bar-room brawl was not a great way to begin his career as a denzien of Light and respectability.

"Harry? Is that you?" a deep Scottish voice yelled over the music.

"Er, maybe?" he suggested, noncommittally. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't put a name to it until the twins leaped forward onto the newcomer, whooping with joy and yelling.

"Oliver!"

"Woodsy!"

"Great to see you!"

"Why didn't you write?"

"You've forgotten you old pals now you're a legend!"

"We've got a shop now!"

"It rocks!"

"It's called Weasleys'…"

"Wizard…"

"Wheezes! You have to come and see it!"

"Man, it's been so long!"

Harry felt himself being pulled to his feet. His glasses reappeared and he was shaking hands with the entire Puddlemere United Quidditch team, cheerfully engaged in a raucous send-off party for their outgoing seeker who was transferring to the Holyhead Harpies.

More drinks appeared.

…….

St Valentine's day morning was bright and clear, despite the winter nip in the air to remind any overzealous lover that it was not quite spring yet.

Harry had hinted to Remus that he was planning something special for the occasion, so it was difficult for the werewolf to stay calm as he ate his breakfast. Sighing contentedly and sipping his tea, he reflected on the amazing good fortune which had exploded into his life since this time last year, when he spent the festival of love in bed drinking Irish coffee and weeping over the past.

That painful despair was all gone now. In a matter of weeks, he would be a father. He pulled out his pocket-watch and flipped open the back cover. A beam of golden light shot out and the image of his baby appeared, making a lump appear in his throat. It was not quite like a three-dimensional photograph because she did not move, being trapped in the position she had been in during Benson's scan – her palms open in front of her face. No matter how hard he and Severus had tried to peep behind them, neither could tell what she looked like. Remus reckoned he had assured Severus about a hundred times that it would not matter whose nose she had, but the pregnant wizard remained unconvinced. He smiled at Snape's consternation and allowed himself some more fantasies about the great things which his daughter could achieve in the future. His beautiful, clever daughter.

Remus was still delighted with Harry, too, though for some reason he wanted to take it slowly, gently resisting the young man's charms whenever he felt things were getting out of hand. He could tell that Harry was dying to get him into bed. It was odd really, because the boy was so attractive and Remus had longed for him since a time when it was entirely inappropriate to do so, yet anything more than kisses and a few fumblings on the sofa made him uneasy.

Dumbledore had congratulated him on his restraint, inferring that Lily would have preferred them to get to know each other spiritually before developing the sexual side of their relationship.

Lupin was sure that Albus had intended it as a compliment, but in the sleepless hours when his thoughts overwhelmed him in the dark, he could not shake the feeling that it had been a reproach.

The floo flared in the kitchen and Snape's face appeared. He looked annoyed, not bothering with a greeting.

"Lupin, aren't you Welsh?" he asked curtly.

"No," Remus was used to erratic behaviour from the hormonal wizard, so answered sensibly, without asking questions which would probably get him hexed. "I was born in Wales while my parents were on holiday in Llangollen, but my family are all English."

"So you don't speak any Welsh?" Snape growled.

"I can order a butterbeer," he suggested helpfully.

Snape grunted in disappointment and vanished.

Whatever Severus was up to, he obviously did not want any interference. Remus shook his head and returned to his toast. He had stayed in bed later than usual in case Harry's surprise had involved breakfast, but at eleven o'clock his stomach had raised objections and forced him to get up. He was still at the kitchen table, still splitting his time between staring at the baby's image and daydreaming about Harry, when Dumbledore appeared for yet another visit.

"Has Severus asked if you speak Welsh?" Remus asked conversationally, once they were settled in the sitting room.

"Yes. I told him I know how to say 'Is that a Common Green Dragon or is your barn on fire?' Apparently this was not helpful," the old wizard deadpanned.

"Any idea what he's trying to do?" chuckled the werewolf.

"I believe he is involved in a potions dispute with Hans Hardtbrind," Albus sighed. "I find it best to leave our clever experts to sort things out on their own."

"Potion-brewers are a vicious lot," Remus remarked.

"Ah, but they can be supportive, too. I was at Severus' home yesterday and saw some lovely flowers and a card which Darius Westwood-Booth had sent him," he commented casually. Remus did not notice the glint in the blue eyes, as he was busy wondering why he suddenly had the urge to find this so-called Westwood-Booth fiend and cast a few Unforgivables on him.

"Valentine's flowers?" he asked sharply.

"No, I believe he had merely heard the rumour that Severus was unable to brew due to health problems. If I remember correctly, he was in Sixth Year when Severus began teaching at Hogwarts and developed a roaring crush. Went out of his way to get detentions until Severus noticed and assigned him to Mr Filch instead. Youngsters can be so emotionally intense when they think they are in love."

For reasons he was not certain of, this information made Remus' face twitch. Albus made a big show of not noticing that both his implications had achieved the desired effect.

"I hear Harry passed his exam!" Dumbledore exclaimed, changing the subject. Remus regained his control and nodded proudly.

"Yes, great news! He popped in yesterday to tell me. I think he went out to celebrate with his friends last night," smiled Lupin. Which is probably why he hasn't shown up here yet, he added privately.

…….

Harry awoke slowly. During the night, something had crept into his mouth and died there, but apart from that, he seemed to be none the worse for wear. He groaned as he remembered ending up in Spark, but beamed as he remembered why they were celebrating. He had done it! He was a qualified auror!

He reached out his arms to enjoy a good stretch and one hand hit a wall. This was odd, as his bed was in the middle of the room, a long way from the side walls. So he must be in someone else's bed.

Remus! Was his first thought, but almost immediately discounted it as Remus was very reserved about sexual activity and would not have allowed their first time to happen whilst Harry was drunk.

He gulped. That meant that he was in bed with someone other than Remus. This was a very, very bad thing.

He reached under the pillow for his wand and summoned his glasses, which seemed to take a long time in arriving. He put them on carefully just as the other person rolled over and looked at him.

"Morning," said Oliver.

…….

Snape was irritated. His body felt stretched like a balloon about to pop, and every part of him either ached and twinged when he moved, or cramped up when he stayed still. He had great difficulty sleeping for more than a few hours at a time, as his bladder, his pains or his familiar flying-the-nest anxiety dream nagged at him each time he closed his eyes.

The baby was less active than before, presumably because she now had hardly any space in which to perform her dance routines, but Severus found himself talking to her much more frequently. Despite all his complaints, he was tremendously excited about the upcoming birth. The interminable wait was almost over and soon he could meet his little girl properly! No amount of haemorrhoids could make him regret his decision to have this baby. Not for a second.

Today was the asinine festival of St Valentine, as Westwood-Booth's second card that week reminded him. Really, it had been years since the brat had last seen him. He ought to have got over the ridiculous infatuation by now. Still, he had found it oddly touching over the lonely years since Lucius' death that there was one person in the world who felt fondness towards him. Even if that man was a total freak.

"St bloody Valentine's day," he murmured to his bump. "I imagine that the revolting Potterling is going to get his claws into your Daddy by showering him with tacky gifts and romantic meals. We will have to _take steps,_ won't we, my treasure? Papa cannot think of anything yet, but he will try. Papa is feeling strange today, but that's not your fault. We'll soon have you out of here and we'll both be nice and comfortable then."

In some ways, he was dreading the birth, terrified of having her living independently and no longer needing him. He realised how utterly pathetic that sounded, but could not help it, trying to cling onto Molly Weasley's assurances that no matter how grown-up your children were, they needed a parent every now and then.

He had woken at dawn, crying "don't leave me!" to the winged baby in his dream, before making the mistake of clearing the lump in his throat too abruptly without first clenching his pelvic muscles. The usual slight leakage had occurred. Snape grimaced in a resigned sort of way and pondered on yet another aspect of pregnancy which undermined one's dignity.

Nothing was right with the world that morning. He asked Pip to make kippers for breakfast, but when they arrived he realised he actually wanted gooseberry jam sandwiches. He waddled to the library, seeking proof of his genius and of Hardtbrind's boundless idiocy, but the only text on magical Welsh tubers had been in the Welsh language. Translation spells were far too complicated to achieve in his current irritable frame of mind, and his alleged friends were no help either so he flung down the book and waddled back to bed.

His usual methods of getting comfortable were not working today. His hip was throbbing each time he tried to lie flat, and some kind of flickering spasm would ripple along his back if he turned on his side. Suddenly deciding that the ugliness of the curtains in his bedroom was to blame, he waddled back to the sitting-room to arrange his ten softest cushions into a supportive position and lower his bulk onto the sofa.

That worked for a restful five minutes, until he realised that the room was all wrong. Eliciting Pip's help, he spent a good hour rearranging all the furniture to his satisfaction, wondering how on earth he had managed to survive so long with that ghastly armchair pointing towards the fireplace. He asked the little elf to clean the curtains, then the windows, while he went over every inch of the room with a dusting spell.

"Master, you is very good at the housework, for a human, but Pip is thinking you must rest now. Pip will clean everything," she took his hand and tried to lead him to the sofa. He ignored her tugging and scowled at the floor.

"This carpet is no good," he sulked. How had he never noticed before? "What can we do about it, Pip?"

Pip, being a clever elf, had an inkling about what was happening. Elves called it 'nesting' but she did not know the human word, so did not say anything to Master in case she made him cry again. She stared at the thin carpet thoughtfully.

"Pip thinks there is being a nice, thick Persian rug in the attic. Will I go and fetch it for Master?"

"Perfect. Yes please. You are a good elf," he came back to Earth and hoped she was not offended by his sudden burst of domestic intensity. Like all elves, she prided herself on keeping a neat and clean house at all times. "What colour is it?"  
She looked shifty for a moment, knowing that her answer could be important.

"What colour is Master wanting it to be?" she asked.

"A nice dark red," he said decisively.

She thought of the sickly-looking, mustard-yellow object in the trunk in the attic and began selecting the appropriate spells.

"Then Pip is fetching down a nice dark red rug! Now, Master is resting!" She pushed him to the sofa and used a gentle calming spell on him. Knowing that it would wear off before long with Master in such an emotional condition, she summoned the huge baby-naming book from the shelf and thrust it into his hands to occupy his mind. "Be reading this. Baby cannot be called 'baby' all her life!"

For once, Severus did as he was told.

……..

Harry arrived home and collapsed wretchedly on the floor.

How had he allowed this to happen? He loved Remus! He knew it! He had loved Remus for a very long time, how on earth had he managed to make such a stupid mistake? He didn't understand it at all.

Hermione was already wide awake and polishing her stealthoscope when he managed to crawl back to the fireplace and beg for her help. She pursed her lips disapprovingly on hearing his shameful confession, but limited herself to a single 'Oh, _Harry!'_ He had obviously realised what a dreadful thing he had just done, so she saw no reason to make it worse.

However, she allowed him to bang his head against the coffee table for a minute or two before making him stop.

"Why am I such a useless _moron!"_ he yelled, indulging in another bang for good measure.

"Because you're male?" suggested Hermione.

"Not helpful," he rubbed miserably at the lump on his forehead. "What I want to know is, why did I sleep with Oliver, when I am in love with Remus?"

"Because you're male?" repeated his friend, looking cynical and little bit sneery.

"Yes, OK, we're all the same – promiscuous pigs, rah, rah. I'm trying to piece together the events of the evening," he knew that using legilimency on oneself could be a risky business, especially if one was still a bit drunk from the previous night, but took a deep breath and prepared himself anyhow. Sometimes it was the only way to clear the brain-fog.

Reliving the eventful evening brought embarrassment and amusement as well as clarity. He could feel Hermione's hands steadying his upper arms, maintaining his link with the outside world in case he got lost inside himself, but his mind's eye was seeing Oliver Wood's face moving towards him. The first kiss was explosive. Every bit as mind-blowingly amazing as kissing Remus. Oh dear.

With some effort, he yanked himself out of the spell and sank into a chair.

"Don't understand," he murmured, fighting against the arousal triggered by the memory. "I know I love Remus because I get that incredible feeling when we kiss, the feeling I never had with Cho, Ginny or the short-term auror-groupies. But I felt it with Oliver last night, too! I don't understand, Hermione! How can I be in love with Oliver as well? I hadn't even seen him for years!"

The young witch wondered how Harry could be such a brave, likeable and intelligent person, yet simultaneously be so unbelievably stupid. She pulled him into a hug and smiled, feeling sad for Remus and just as sad for Harry.

"What do Oliver and Remus have in common, Harry?" she asked gently, hoping he could figure it out on his own.

"I don't know. Er, both attractive ex-Gryffindors?" She tutted at him.

"Try again. How are they different from the others you mentioned?" She tightened the hug while he worked it out. There was almost an audible 'ting' as the knut dropped.

"Men," he said. She nodded. "Oh. You mean it's a sexual orientation thing?"

"I can't be sure, of course, but it could be the answer. You need to talk to Remus, Harry," she patted him on the hand.

Harry intestines turned into jelly snakes.

"I _do _love him," he protested in a small voice.

"I know, Harry. But _how_ do you love him?" She smiled sadly and left him to his thoughts.

Harry wandered blindly around the room for a long time before he noticed the piles of red wrapping paper, boxes of Honeydukes' finest truffles and bags of rose petals sitting accusingly on the shelf. All his plans to make Valentine's day Special for Remus lay in tatters. Snape and his stolen baby had won by default.

"_How_ do I love him?" he asked the empty room.

…….

Albus knew that the best way to revive blue spirits was to be busy. He had enjoyed a good meddle in the Harry-Remus-Severus affair. Then, he had stuck a 'Have you seen this phoenix?' poster on every lamp-post in Hogsmeade, and most of the other shopkeepers had swallowed their natural aversion to the uncouth familiar on seeing Albus so upset and allowed him to post the notice in their windows.

That done, he had devoted an hour of intense spellwork to creating the biggest, reddest, most nauseatingly mushy Valentine's card his warped imagination could devise. Cherubs danced. Lovebirds sang. A picture of a fountain gushed forth real strawberry sherbet sweets. When it was opened, pink, heart-shaped bubbles would fill the air and bob around the heads of anyone in the same room, in time to the cheesy little tune.

Yes, it was perfect. Albus was greatly cheered by his handiwork. All that remained was to deliver it to Madam Puddifoot, preferably when lots of people were watching.

"Fawkes!" he called, grinning mischievously. There was no answer. In his excitement, he had forgotten that his bird had deserted him, and he sobered instantly. His hope that Fawkes was just sulking and would be back when he got bored was fading with each passing day.

He walked the card over to the tea-shop himself, and slid it under the door before running like the wind in case she caught him. Arriving breathless back at Cosy Toes, he realised he was still not safe. Madam Puddifoot could have no trouble guessing who sent the card, and would be banging his door down with indignation and a stout rolling-pin at any second. He snatched up the bright yellow bootees he had finished knitting the previous afternoon and apparated to Severus' house.

"My, my, you have been working hard!" smiled Dumbledore, admiring the adjustments the younger wizard and his elf had made to the sitting-room. Snape was pacing awkwardly up and down with some agitation and only grunted in response, rubbing at his back and limping oddly. Albus was concerned. "Is anything the matter, dearest boy?"

"Spasms, pains, itches, flutters, indigestion, restlessness and cramp," he ticked the complaints off on his fingers savagely. "But it should lessen soon. It's been coming and going all day." Albus pocketed his present, knowing it was not quite the moment to engender the response he had been looking forward to. Pondering what Severus had just told him, something stirred at the back of his mind and his eyes widened.

"Er?" he began tentatively, not sure if he hoped he was right or wrong.

"What?" growled Snape, with a snarl which would have looked fierce on his old-style pinched face, but which his new chubby cheeks turned into an adorably petulant pout.

"How long to go now?" he asked, peering at the gargantuan swelling which dominated the tall and formerly thin frame of his friend.

"Just over two weeks," he answered, still waddling to and fro.

"And these pains. They come and go?" Albus stroked his beard and tried a disinterested expression to hide his rising unease.

"Yes. Since really early this morning. They are getting a bit more frequent now, though," he frowned, then looked up sharply. "Albus!" The exclamation was fearful, almost terrified, and brought Dumbledore to his side in a fraction of a second.

"It's all right, dear child," he soothed. "Just relax. I think your young lady has grown tired of waiting. Would you like me to floo that private healer for you? Bennett, was it?"

"Benson," he corrected, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Pip will go. I think she…._ah!_"

With a muted shriek, he crumpled to the floor, biting his lip in agony and hissing a few curses. Albus went down with him, rubbing his shoulders and calling for the house-elf, who appeared, took in the situation instantly and vanished with a determined 'pop'.

"What is it, Severus? Can I help?" he asked urgently, not liking the pallor which had crept onto the pregnant wizard's face.

"It broke," he spat grimly, through clenched teeth.

"Your water?" asked Albus.

"No," Snape gave an unpleasant smirk. "My hip."

…….

A/N: So, by popular demand, the Harry/Remus ship runs aground in tempestuous weather! Though don't forget the H.M.S. Lupin-Snape has not reached harbour yet either! Thank you to everyone who gave me their opinion – though I know it was hardly a fair poll with me being so evil to Harry, so nice to Severus, and also registering it on this site as an RL/SS! Cheating? Moi? Of course! My school house tie was actually green, I'll have you know.

Harry does not have a drink problem, he's just a young man enjoying himself irresponsibly, as young people are wont to do.

This fic now has over 100 reviews! Thank you SO much everyone for your continual support and attention! This is the first time one of my bits of nonsense has hit three figures. I am as delighted as a Dark Lord with seven souls!

Love always, SN x


	11. A Small Snape

Small chapter. Big event. Heh heh.

…….

"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus. By the way, I shagged a Quidditch professional last night!"

"Hi. How are you? I've got something to tell you."

"Remus, I'm never drinking again and I plan to devote the rest of my life to self-flagellation. Why, you ask? Ah. Well."

"I've done something which I am very ashamed of. But I love you."

"Do you remember a chap called Oliver Wood? Tall, dark, devastatingly handsome?"

"Hello. I'm a total idiot."

No matter how many different speeches Harry rehearsed, to his own ears at least, he still sounded like a stupid boy making stupid excuses for a stupid act of thoughtlessness.

Harry grew increasingly wretched as he paced the sitting room. Remus was such a sweet-tempered man, Harry was certain that he would not shout or otherwise punish him for his infidelity, but the pain of having disappointed his lover was almost too great to bear. Despite the great hardships he had suffered, Remus was always delighted to spend time with Harry. He was tenderness personified and the young auror knew that whatever Harry did wrong, they would always hold a special bond of love. Which made the guilt so much worse.

What if he made Remus cry? It was a dreadful thought, which brought a lump to Harry's own throat. For perhaps the millionth time he cursed his drunken stupidity and prayed that Remus would burst with out-of-character anger and hex him into next week. He would deserve it.

Deciding that procrastination was only making the situation worse, he strode over to the side-table and selected a single gift from the unused Valentine's treasure trove, if only to give his hands something to do other than smacking himself repeatedly in the head. He was starting to get a red mark on the opposite side to his scar. The chocolate truffles would be best, he decided. He removed the red wrapping paper and bow, so the simple gold Honeyduke's box held no reminder of the ruined love-festival.

Squaring his jaw, he headed for the fireplace, knowing that any attempt at apparition in his emotional state would result in all manner of splinch-tastic chaos.

There was no sign of Remus when he arrived. Using the passwords to enter the sitting room, he found it in darkness, with the curtains still open. Calling the werewolf's name, he moved through the house, listening for a response or any clue to his lover's whereabouts. Harry hoped that Remus had not already heard his news from someone else. His fuzzy memories placed that first sensational kiss between himself and Oliver in the street outside the nightclub, where anyone could have spotted them. It might even have made the newspaper! Oh, Merlin. He smacked himself in the head again.

Harry reached the kitchen, which was also dark with the window blinds gaping open. Casting 'lumos', his keen auror's eyes took in a worrying sight. One of the chairs was lying on its back on the floor, as though someone had leaped up in alarm from their place at the table. Even more unnerving was the congealed mug of tea, almost full but for a small amount which had spilled down the side and onto the wood. Most terrifying of all was the wedge of sticky chocolate cake with a single bite taken out.

Harry swallowed as the blood began pounding in his ears. Remus may well have left the house during the day, so would not have needed to draw the curtains. He may well have been startled enough to knock over his chair and spill his tea. But there was no way on this green Earth that he would have been able to put down a piece of chocolate cake once he had begun to eat it. Something was badly wrong.

He cast about for a minute, trying to find any clue to what had happened before pure panic took hold. He flung himself into the fireplace.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he called. Silence answered him. Cosy Toes was also in darkness. "Albus? Fawkes?" Then he remembered the phoenix was missing too and began to curse. What if the disappearances were connected? Strange forces were at work here. Harry pulled his head out of the fire and thought hard about where to turn next. He really needed someone who had their finger on the pulse, who knew every bit of gossip and information available, someone he trusted implicitly. He thrust his head into the flames again.

"Molly?"

"Harry, dear! Nice to see you! Do come in!" she beckoned him through, looking reassuringly calm in her bright kitchen. To his intense relief, Dumbledore was there too. Both were beaming like lunatics.

"You have to help me! Remus has disappeared!" he gasped out, dizzied by worry and his precipitous hurtle through the floo network.

"Oh, don't you worry about him, dear boy," Albus glanced at the clock. "He's quite all right, I can assure you." Molly smiled indulgently at them both.

"But I was at his house, and the chair was over and he hadn't eaten his cake!" Harry knew he was babbling, but didn't care. They would not understand what an eerie sight it had been, especially when discovered in an already anxious mood.

"Harry, Severus is in labour," said Molly gently, as though to a skittish unicorn foal.

The Hogwarts Express slammed into Harry's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

"Oh," he whispered. Well, that would explain it. If anything could come between a werewolf and his chocolate, imminent fatherhood would do it, every time. Fear gave way to relief, then almost immediately to jealousy. Snape and his bloody cunning Slytherin baby had messed up Harry's plans yet again. He was willing to bet that the sprog had done it deliberately.

"Have a seat," urged Molly. "You seem very upset. I know it's a little earlier than expected, but the house-elf popped in an hour ago to say that things were going well and Healer Benson was confident of a safe delivery."

"Yes, it will be quite all right," reassured Albus, patting his unresisting hand. "Severus had come this far, he will not let himself lose out now!"

Heaving a tremendous sigh, Harry closed his eyes for a long moment. He did not doubt _that _for a second.

…….

Snape was in a funny little world of his own.

His ears had popped after hours of straining and screaming, so the sounds around him had an oddly muffled, dreamlike quality. The hours of physical torment had taken their toll and non-essential processes, such as thinking, had been sidelined as he concentrated on the distant voices calling at him to push, relax, breathe, nearly there.

It was fairly obvious that he was undergoing some kind of drawn-out torture, which involved bursting his brain, paralysing some parts of his body and casting searing agony on others as the voices encouraged him to turn himself inside-out, inch by painful inch. It was definitely a kind of curse, as his body was sometimes obeying of its own accord without consulting him first.

Dimly, he remembered that a long time ago, there had been a purpose to this relentless mutilation of his flesh and bones, but everything was rather hazy now.

Someone was screaming fit to burst and the voice sounded strangely familiar and there were arms around his shoulders and encouraging sounds and his body was imploding and sweat was pouring into his eyes and every muscle was shaking with exhaustion and he knew with absolute, determined, solid certainty that he was going to die.

The painful burst of activity ended suddenly and one of the voices was close to his head now and had changed its tone, but he didn't care to listen any longer. He was surely dying so could do what he liked. His breath was coming in great heaving gasps. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

It was a few moments before he registered a totally new sensation – something was lying on the right side of his chest. He turned to look at what would probably turn out to be a new form of torture and beheld a small, slippery, purplish object, wriggling awkwardly and making a miserable little noise suggesting that it objected to its recent change in circumstances.

Machinery began to whirr slowly in the back of Snape's brain and he blinked violently, trying to focus on the outside world. Perhaps he was not dying after all. For some reason, that blasted werewolf was next to him, babbling and grinning and crying all at once. He fixed Lupin with a bleary glare, not at all up to his usual standards, but hopefully with both his bulging eyes looking in the same direction, at least. He pointed a long index finger at the bloodsoaked Thing.

"Whassat?" he demanded, sounding every bit as hoarse and exhausted as he felt.

Lupin responded with a stream of hysterical gibberish and Snape was about to roll his aching eyes when he felt something latch onto the tip of his pointing finger. Glancing over in alarm, he realised that the Thing had grabbed hold of him with an impossibly tiny little hand.

"Nk," it said.

Then he knew.

Remus watched as Severus went from semi-consciousness to hyper-alertness within seconds. It was as though he had swallowed a pint of extra-strength pepper-up and his brain had decided that the body's pain and exhaustion no longer mattered one whit. He gathered up the baby in his arms, cuddling her fragile form against his chest as he inspected every inch of her, crooning words of welcome and comfort while he counted microscopic toes, stroked pink cheeks and patted blood-matted wispy hair. His face shone with delight as he drank in every detail of the wondrous little creature.

Overcome with joy, Remus slipped one arm behind Severus and the other around their daughter, holding them both as tight as he dared. Their daughter! His daughter! He was a daddy! It was unbelievable! Making his first effort at coherent speech since catching his first glimpse of the little girl, he cleared his throat.

"Severus, she's beautiful. You've done so well, you're so clever! She's an angel!"

Snape fixed him with the most absolutely smug expression to be seen on the face of any human being, for any reason, anywhere, ever.

"I know," he sneered, then looked away again, unable to stop gazing in adoration at his new baby.

"Hello, Sugar," cooed Remus, gently touching her back and marvelling that, curled up like this, she was barely longer than his hand.

She made an unimpressed whimpering noise.

Snape snatched her away with a growl.

"Your hands are cold," he accused, glaring daggers. "Are you trying to kill her?"

"Now, gentlemen," Healer Benson interrupted the new fathers for the first time, looking fairly exhausted himself. "Pip and I need to get her all cleaned up and weighed, and I shall perform a few scans to make sure she really is as healthy as she looks." He held out his hands to take the child. Snape glared and refused to let go.

"Severus," admonished Remus gently.

"Mine!" he warned them, clutching the little body even tighter.

"Of course she is," sighed Benson with the air of one who had been in this position many times before. "You can have her back in about two minutes."

"No," sulked Snape. "She's mine."

Knowing her master better than the humans, a radiant Pip intervened, fighting to force her mile-wide grin into a serious expression.

"Little Mistress is not being comfortable like this, Master," she reasoned. "See? All sticky and cold. If Master is giving her to his Pip, Pip is making her nice and cosy. And Master Healer is checking everything is working good. Then we is giving Little One straight back to her Papa, where she is happiest."

He scowled, but accepted the suggestion, kissing the tiny forehead before allowing the elf to reach up and take the baby. Benson shook his head in amazement. He had never met such a manipulative house-elf.

"I have never had anything nice before," Snape muttered in explanation, but not apology.

Pip, looking as though she had been handed the most precious treasure in the whole world, nodded in agreement. For some reason, the revelation made Remus rather sad. He leaned forward and kissed Severus on his sweaty temple.

"Now you do," he smiled.

Severus ignored him, concentrating fully on watching the elf and the old man with a ferocity which reminded Remus of a nesting mother dragon.

As promised, the baby was back in his arms within minutes, with a clean bill of health and an official birthweight of six pounds and one ounce. The two fathers continued to stare at her, completely mesmerised, while Benson attended to Snape's damaged lower areas, taking pictures for his book and easing out the placenta.

"You know, Severus," mused the Healer, hefting the weighty lump of flesh in his bony hands, "Having this preserved in one of my jars would be a wonderful visual aid on the lecture tour."

"No," snapped Snape – a mummy Horntail again. "It's going in one of _my_ jars. I need it for potions."

"Tour?" asked Remus, breaking his adoring gaze for a second.

"Yes. I'm going on a tour to tie in with the launch of my book. 'A Myth Proven: A Modern Case Study of Male Pregnancy'," he sighed. "I have hundreds of pictures, but the real thing would be better."

"No," repeated Severus with finality, rocking the baby gently as she slept.

Jeremy acknowledged defeat, but quietly appropriated a few inches of umbilical cord while everyone was busy worshipping.

Despite the exertions of the day, Severus showed no signs of allowing sleep to overcome his excitement and at half-past midnight – just over an hour after giving birth – he permitted Remus to go and see if Albus and Molly were still awake.

Dumbledore leapt gleefully out of the chair where he had been dozing at home and hugged Remus fiercely before diving up the stairs to see the new arrival. Molly took a little longer to extract herself from Arthur's embrace on the sofa, where they had apparently fallen asleep together after a Valentine's supper. She patted his cheek and assured him she would be back soon. Lupin had never seen Arthur scowl before. It made him look exactly like Ron.

Snape sat up in bed wearing a fresh nightshirt, holding court and looking inordinately pleased with himself as his friends cooed and exclaimed over tiny hands, tiny feet and – thankfully – a tiny nose. Aside from the very dark brown hair and newborn blue eyes, the baby was a miniature replica of Remus. Severus expressed great relief at the fact. His initial fear of letting anyone else touch her had receded, though the black eyes never flickered from her while she was passed around 'like a bloody quaffle', as he muttered plaintively to Pip.

There was a short pause in conversation after everyone smiled indulgently on seeing the baby first discover that thumbs tasted good. Taking a sip of another pain potion as both recently-healed hip joints twinged at the same moment, Severus broke the silence with a tentative question to Remus. He knew he had to operate very carefully if he was to pull this perilous scheme off, but he had made up his mind.

"What do you think of Alexandra?" he asked quietly. All heads snapped up to look at him, then back to the star attraction, who was now dozing in Molly's arms.

"Alexandra," repeated Lupin, turning the name over on his tongue. "Alexandra Lupin-Snape. I like that!"

"It shortens to Saskia, which is also a name I am fond of," added Severus.

"Lovely!" said Albus. "Alexandra. Let me see, 'Defender of Mankind' I believe. That's a big task for a small girl!"

"She has two excellent role models for learning how to be a heroine," commented Molly, making both fathers blush. "I think that's lovely, Severus."

Snape reached out to take his daughter back. Fussily rearranging her blanket and the tiny pink socks which had made him cry months earlier, he kissed the top of her head.

"Alexandra Lucy Lupin-Snape," he murmured.

"Oh!" Remus exclaimed, bringing a hand up to his mouth.

Snape cursed silently. Damnation! The blasted werewolf had seen through him! He had hoped that the discussion of the first name would divert attention from the second. He was either losing his touch, or more exhausted than he thought.

"How did you find out?" asked Remus, with tears brimming in his eyes.

"What?" asked Snape, not showing the confusion he felt. Find out? Find out what? Perhaps he had not guessed after all.

"Lucy was my mother's name! Oh, Severus!" He flung himself on his mate and their daughter in delight, sobbing freely. Molly and Albus exchanged a look which could only be described as perfectly soppy.

On the other side of the room, Jeremy Benson's glare told Snape that one person, at least, knew exactly whom he had chosen to commemorate, and it wasn't the late Lucy Lupin.

Severus ignored him and breathed a sigh of relief. A thoroughly fortunate coincidence had earned him house points with the werewolf at the same time as providing an excellent cover story. It really would not do to have anyone guess that the child was named after an executed mass murderer.

Whom Severus still missed.

He shook the thought away. This was no time for morbidity. Basking in more positive attention than he had received in his entire life to date, surrounded by friends and finally holding his very own child in his arms, a glowing Snape allowed sleep to tug his eyelids down.

My treasure, he thought. My Valentine's Day surprise. My Saskia. _Mine._

…….

A/N: (Wipes tear from eye) Yes, I know, uncharacteristically mushy! I indulged myself. Slightly shorter than usual, too, but I thought that was a good place for a chapter break.

The birth scene was inspired by my mother's description of my own arrival – particularly being so knackered that she forgot what was going on, and on being told that she 'had work to do', tried to get up and dressed; and the bleary 'Whassat?', which was actually 'Is that mine?'. I know there are a few mums following this story, so I apologise for any wild inaccuracies. I will shamelessly hide behind the facts that it is different for men and different when you can use magic. Ahem!

Coming up (not necessarily next chapter, but soon): Fawkes is still AWOL. Albus gets an idea about his future. So does Harry. Harry has some explaining to do. Remus is still caught in the middle. And Alexandra has a little secret…


	12. Betrayals

The day after Alexandra's birth, Remus had bounded joyously to the Hatches, Matches and Dispatches office to register his daughter. This proud task had been more complicated than he imagined, as none of the dull-eyed clerks had been able to comprehend how the baby came to have two fathers and no mother.

Eventually, the HMD department head had been summoned from her very long lunch in order to perform the necessary 'proof of paternity' spells and create a special registration form to be signed by Severus, Remus and Healer Benson, stating in words of no less than four syllables that she had indeed been borne by a wizard, the hereto aforementioned party of the first part, etc etc. It had taken several hours, during which Snape had become progressively grumpier, having already been frazzled by what they knew would be the first of many sleepless nights.

"Those frightful secretaries are heading straight for the Daily Prophet office, you realise," he snapped as the last of them stepped, giggling, through the floo and away.

Remus was holding the heavily-appended birth certificate as though it was the most fascinating document he had ever seen.

"Mm? Oh, I suppose they are," he sighed. "Well, people had to find out sooner or later." Snape passed a hand over his weary brow, hating the unavoidable task which lay ahead. Life would be so much simpler if people would only mind their own bloody business.

"Get over there, Lupin. Tell that Skeeter woman she can have the entire damned story straight from us on the condition that we get the final say on the tone and content of the article. Use your scruffy charm, your big amber eyes or whatever you must, and if all that fails then tell her I shall enjoy poisoning her as creatively as I can at the merest hint of scandalisation. Understood?"

Remus tried to keep the admiration off his face, instead giving what he hoped was a supportive smile. He knew how such publicity would upset the intensely private wizard, yet he was willing to suffer it anyway for the sake of the baby. Whichever way you looked at him, the potions master really was a remarkable man.

"Well done, Severus," he praised. "I know you find it distasteful, but the sooner we tell people, the sooner they can get used to the idea and treat her like a normal child."

From the crib beside the bed, a piercing howl signalled that Saskia was ready for yet another meal. Snape's face softened as he lifted the kicking girl and chatted lovingly to her, unbuttoning the front of his nightshirt as he did so. He knew without even raising his head that Remus was staring, but kept his voice low and musical as he issued the threat so not to disturb his daughter's dinner.

"Lupin, how many times do I have to tell you to stop gawping at my tits?"

"Sorry, it's just…" Remus flushed at being caught out yet again.

"If you use the word 'beautiful' to describe breastfeeding one more time I shall not be responsible for my actions."

"Sorry, I…"

"Stop apologising and bugger off to the Prophet!" he sang sweetly.

It had amazed Remus how Severus could say such vicious things without allowing Saskia to detect even a hint of unpleasantness. He allowed himself a last glance at the undeniably _beautiful_ sight of his daughter suckling happily away in her Papa's arms, one tiny yet long-fingered hand gripping at his sleeve as he stroked her dark hair. For the hundredth time in the last four months, he revelled in the knowledge that he was the luckiest man alive.

He deliberately kept the adoring expression for his initial interview with Rita Skeeter. She had almost fallen out of her seat in excitement and had accepted the terms unequivocally, even agreeing to postpone the interview with Severus for a day to let his hips recover enough to get out of bed. (Even now he refused to consider more efficient healing potions, not wanting Saskia to ingest the strong ingredients as she fed.) During the brief floo call the journalist made to Maltings Lane, she impressed them both with some insightful questions. Snape was also relieved that she seemed to be one of those people who do not gush over babies, using only sensible words like 'healthy'. Neither did she make any unfortunate moves towards touching her, for which Remus was silently glad – being a peaceful man, he hated unnecessary bloodshed.

Shaking hands with the journalist, Lupin was preparing to leave when she shot a final question at him.

"You are a friend of Harry Potter's, aren't you?" she asked, cheerfully activating her Quick-Quotes Quill. "May I ask if this morning's revelations came as a shock to you?"

"Revelations?" Remus' smile faltered slightly at the thought of poor Harry hitting the headlines again. He should probably go straight to the boys' flat now and give him the wonderful news, he would hate to hear about the birth from anyone else.

"Oh, of course! Silly me. You've been far too busy with your precious bundle to have read the paper this morning!" She waved the day's Prophet at him and his blood ran cold. "My readers would love to know if our hero's friends knew about his handsome gay lover!"

Most of the front page was taken up with an enormous picture of Harry passionately kissing a tall, dark, young man in what appeared to be a dingy street. The couple pulled apart and frowned, before the other man reached up and pulled off Harry's awkward glasses, crushing their mouths together so forcefully that Remus could almost hear the slurping.

Rita had asked several questions while he stared, but Remus had been unable to focus on the words pouring out of her glossy lips. Only when she folded the paper so the photo was out of sight did he recover enough to listen.

"Obviously, Harry has not deemed it necessary to mention his preferences to you, one of his oldest friends. You must feel awfully betrayed by his secret?" she prompted, the quill noting his reaction so expressively that smoke was beginning to rise from the parchment.

_Betrayed._ The word burned his intestines like a shot of wolfsbane.

Remembering where he was, and with whom, he forced a smile.

"I have no comment to make on Harry's private life," the words came out evenly, their sensible sound calming him enough to regain the use of his brain. "And if you feature any of my remarks or reactions in subsequent articles concerning him, I shall have Severus send you a little present." He flicked his wand and the quill burst into flame with a satisfying 'whoosh'.

Her sharp instincts registered that there was more to this particular story than met the eye, but mindful of the exclusive male pregnancy story and the very real threat from a highly trained ex-Death Eater, she agreed sweetly and bade Remus good-day. Sometimes it was advisable to throw one's principles to the wind and allow the proverbial dragon to get its rest. She pulled out an expenses form and added the cost of a new QQQ. A flameproof one.

…….

Neville was in the sitting room, pulling on his boots. He glanced up as Remus stepped out of the fireplace, but could not hold eye contact and swiftly turned his attention to his laces.

"Hi," he greeted the werewolf quietly.

"Hello," Remus returned. A heavily-creased copy of the newspaper was resting on the arm of the chair, looking as though it had been crushed into a tiny ball then flattened out again, several times. Neville followed his eyes then blushed.

"He's in bed, hiding from the hoards of well- and ill-wishers," he volunteered. "I'll get him."

Remus nodded and sat down in one of the tatty chairs, staring sightlessly at the pictures of revelry which covered most of the room's surfaces. Almost every protagonist was of Harry's generation. Young people drinking, partying and having fun, just as he had done with his friends twenty years previously.

With Harry's parents.

It had been wrong to start a relationship with Harry, he knew that now. The younger man still had so much experimentation to do before he discovered his true identity or came to terms with the momentous experiences of his all-too-recent childhood. Remus had a sickly feeling that he was too much a part of Harry's past to lay claim to his future. The world was so big and so full of other, more worthy souls; what right had an old, grey-haired werewolf to dominate what would surely become a varied and interesting life?

Perhaps if they still felt the same way in five years, or ten, it would be possible to review the situation. But after ten years of associating with vibrant, new people, why should Harry throw himself away on a fifty-plus Remus?

There was also the question of Saskia. Unsurprisingly, given the levels of neglect he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, Harry had been rather emotionally demanding, leaning heavily on Remus for support and love during their time together. He needed a partner who could be there for him at all times, not someone whose first priority was a small baby living at the home of his childhood nemesis. He knew for certain that in a straight contest, Saskia would take precedence over anyone and anything else, every time. Paternal instinct, he supposed, or some primal lupine force.

Neville returned to tell him that Harry was coming.

"I'm just off to work. Five o'clock shift," he explained, pulling on a heavy winter cloak. His eyes fell on the dreadful cover of the Prophet once again and he hesitated a moment before saying. "Look, for what it's worth, he's distraught about what happened." He pointed to a large dent in the coffee table which Remus had not noticed. "Do you see that? Harry did it. With his head."

"Yeah, thanks for mentioning it, Nev," sighed Harry wryly from the doorway. Neville blushed again and headed off, leaving the couple alone.

Harry was not looking his best. His hair was messier than ever and, ironically, greasier than Snape's had been in recent months. At least two days of black stubble made him look strangely unlike himself, and the livid bruises across his forehead from his recent discussion with the table clashed alarmingly with the famous lightening-bolt scar. Even his bright eyes seemed dull.

None of the hundred or so opening remarks Harry had rehearsed since waking up next to Oliver, nor the further thousand since seeing the paper, were able to make their way to his throat. Remus was silently examining an irregular stain on the fireside rug, clearly waiting for him to make the first move. He swallowed. He owed the man that much, at the very, very least.

"Sorry," he said. It was not enough. But it was a start. Remus looked up.

"I don't trust the Daily Prophet," he stated. "Will you tell me what happened?"

Harry swallowed and sat down. He recounted the activities of the evening – getting his results, meeting his friends, drinking in Diagon Alley, deciding to head to the infamous Spark club, drinking some more, bumping into the Puddlemere Quidditch team, everything becoming a blur and finally, unforgivably, waking the next morning having slept with Oliver Wood.

"I truly, honestly didn't mean for it to happen," he took hold of Remus' hands. "Please believe that. I hate the fact that I've hurt you. I am so very sorry."

Remus squeezed back supportively.

"I know you wouldn't do something like this deliberately," he sighed. "It happens. You got a bit carried away, there are some huge things going on in your life, I completely understand."

The 'but' hung in the air without being spoken. Harry closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow.

"But?" he ventured grimly.

"Yes, well. _But_," he rubbed circles on the back of Harry's palms with his thumbs. "I think it has shown up some serious flaws with our relationship. You must agree that we would be fools to ignore this?"

Harry sighed and looked intently at Remus. Something heavy materialised in the pit of his stomach as he tried to accept the dread fact. Yesterday he had thought the world was about to end, yet as he formed the words in his head before speaking, there was a strange rightness about them. Remus needed a partner who was reliable, who would treat him well and behave in a gentlemanly way, not a wild child whose struggles with his own sexuality would probably be public domain for the next decade, at the least. He did not need national pity each time Harry had a crisis and embarrassed himself in public – somehow he knew that this would not be a one-off.

"It's over, isn't it?" Harry chirped with forced brightness.

"Harry, I love you," Lupin's voice cracked, though he carried on speaking. "I've loved you since before it was legal or moral to do so, and I think I always will. But, just at the moment, we're not what each other needs."

Harry nodded and kept smiling through the mist forming on his glasses.

"Remus, I love you more than anyone else I've ever known," swallowing was harder than it should have been. "So it's ridiculous to have to say this, but I think we will only make each other miserable."

"Ridiculous, yes," Remus sobbed. "But true. Bloody hell."

They clung together with shaking shoulders and running noses for nearly half an hour, offering comfort as best they could under the illogical but inevitable circumstances. The room was dark by the time they had recovered enough self-control to sit up independently, and Remus decided it was time to deliver his own piece of news.

"Well Harry, when you're not busy, there's someone I'd like you to meet," He blew his nose loudly on a handkerchief which turned out to be the one Snape had offered him weeks earlier as he sniffled over the baby scan. He quickly pocketed it.

Harry stared at him quizzically.

"She's your rival for my affections," Lupin grinned at the young man's startled expression.

"Who? Oh! Oh, Merlin!" he clapped a hand to his mouth. "I'm such an idiot! The baby's been born, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Remus was beaming like a lighthouse now. "Alexandra Lucy. She's the most beautiful little thing you've ever seen. It's wonderful. I'm a dad!" He burst into tears again.

Harry hugged him tightly, grimacing while his face could not be seen. This damned baby was the reason that he had not been able to confess to Remus before he read the awful news in the paper. He wondered if she had done it deliberately. Being born on Valentine's day, the slushiest day of the year, too, very Slytherin. He reasoned that this kind of manipulation was only to be expected from the spawn of Snape.

"Snape's all right, is he?" he grunted to Remus, indulging himself briefly in a happy-family fantasy of the greasy git dying in childbirth and leaving the baby to be raised by Remus and Harry.

"He's ecstatic," gushed Remus. "Just glowing with joy!"

A practical instinct told Harry it was probably for the best. He didn't know much about babies. The nuclear-family image in his mind suddenly descended into nights of screaming, followed by a three feet high hurricane of doom destroying everything in its path, and eventually, a hormone-soaked teenager sulking and getting into trouble at school. For some reason the little demon in his imagination was a small Snape wearing pigtails. A thought struck him.

"It…er,…she doesn't have the nose, does she?" he asked carefully.

"No. She has my mum's nose," Remus smiled and fished in his pocket for a photo which he wielded proudly. "She's a lot like me, actually."

Harry looked at the squashed pink face, oddly distorted head and slightly crossed electric-blue eyes and privately disagreed.

"Small," he managed.

"Gorgeous," cooed Remus, gazing in adoration.

…….

Dumbledore had spent a busy day taking lunch, tea and various interim refreshments with important acquaintances. On seeing the scandalous newspaper article first thing in the morning, he had immediately swung into action, subtly gauging the reactions of the great and the powerful to the revelations about the wizarding world's number one hero.

He feared that Harry would be hurt by the fall from his dizzyingly high pedestal, and had employed his most cunning manipulation techniques on those with the staunchest anti-gay beliefs – including that champion of Family Values (he shuddered at the awful past acts committed in the name of that innocent phrase) the editor of Daily Prophet. Albus hoped that he had diffused most of the potential explosions before they could do any harm.

A brief rendezvous with Molly had reassured him that she was working on the house-witches network, the disbanded Order of the Phoenix and the not-inconsiderable extended Weasley family.

"Will that poor boy's struggles never end?" she sighed.

"That which does not kill us…" began Albus sagely.

"Makes us stronger, I know," she finished for him.

"Actually, my dear, I was going to say, 'can be a real pain in the arse', but I like yours too," he chortled. "That is one of Severus', you know."

At the mention of the new father, Mrs Weasley adopted a soppy expression.

"How is he? And the little one?" she asked indulgently.

"Both very bonny," said Dumbledore. "Although young Alexandra seemed less than impressed with her new yellow bootees. I feared I should go deaf!" He smiled at the memory of his delightful banter with Snape over the bright gift. The potions master had allowed his eyes to twinkle just enough to show his former boss that he was grateful really, while berating him with apparent outrage for deliberately upsetting his daughter. Severus was such a feisty young man. Albus reflected again on how much he missed teasing that scowling face each mealtime.

"Oh, dear. Do you suppose she'll want to dress all in black, like her Papa?" worried Molly, who was halfway through knitting a pink and white striped hat with rabbit ears.

He had collared Harry for a quick chat at lunchtime, before the boy had chance to speak to Remus.

"Are you all right, dear child?" he asked in concern. "I trust that your friends have been supportive during your hour of need?"

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair absently. "Though I don't think I deserve it this time. Mrs Weasley sent a tray of muffins, Hermione and Ginny helped me diffuse the early howlers and Bihranti and Neville put up some impenetrable wards on the flat. Tonks sent a note to say it wasn't a problem. Professionally, I mean."

"And Ronald?" the old man enquired after the significant omission from Harry's list of friends. Harry gave a distracted snigger.

"Ron turned up, ranting at me for cheating on Remus," he swallowed thickly. "But when Hermione arrived minutes later saying exactly the same things he got really cross and defended me. It would have been funny, if this whole situation were not so awful."

"Have you spoken to Remus?" asked Albus gently.

"Not yet," he sighed. "But I will."

Albus stretched out in his favourite chair, relaxing for the first time that day. What a day it had been! Wizarding society could be very liberal on certain issues, but for some reason, the word 'gay' could bring out the Grindelwald in the fluffiest of people. The British muggle government had just legalised same-sex partnerships, but sadly, Dumbledore could not see their magical counterparts changing the rules of the ancient rites while people like his recent stubborn lunch companions remained in positions of authority.

He pulled on a pair of mohair slippers and wiggled his toes in front of the fire. Severus had warned him to prepare for another scandal in two days' time, when they announced Alexandra's birth, or rather, the circumstances of it, in the paper. Albus supposed he would have to do a little more firefighting when the time came, but he didn't mind one bit. It would be interesting to see what the defenders of the sacred Institution of the Family had to say about a gay couple who had created a child. The debate looked set to prove most diverting.

Harry had looked dreadful, he thought. That defeated expression was ill-suited to his normal, cheery demeanour. Albus felt sorry for the boy, though he stood by his earlier meddling, still believing that Remus and Harry together was a seriously bad idea. It was not always pleasant to be right all the time. But it was not in Harry's nature to brood. Dumbledore reassured himself that the boy would bounce back and do more great things, while Remus had the perfect distraction from his heartbreak in little Saskia.

Realising that he had got no further than the notorious front page of the Prophet that morning, Albus rummaged in his pocket for a Tooth Testing Toffee and began to read the rest. As usual, he drew an elaborate moving star next to any article or letter he felt inclined to complain about, and by the time he reached the Births, Marriages and Deaths column, he already had plenty of arguments ready with which to enflame the magical community.

Halfway down the 'Marriages' column, he inhaled so sharply the toffee stuck in his windpipe and it took a few minutes of undignified spluttering and hasty wandless magic to save his own life. Gasping through his ripped throat he cast a reproving glance at Fawkes' empty perch, reflecting that living alone was more than unsatisfactory, it could be downright dangerous.

He picked up the paper again, hoping that he was somehow mistaken. Unfortunately, this was not the case. It was an inoffensive tiny box of text with a spray of confetti dancing the corner, but it turned Dumbledore's blood to ice.

**Puddifoot-Dumbledore. **It said.

He blinked. The words were still there. He read on.

**Yesterday, at 2 o'clock, Aurora Norah, proprietress of Madam Puddifoot's tearoom, and Aberforth Godric Llewellen Kevin, barman at the Hog's Head, both in Hogsmeade, were married at The Smithy, Gretna Green.**

He conjured a glass of water and took a sip to occupy his hands while his mind processed the information.

Then he yelled a word which was so rude it killed one of the pot plants stone dead.

Aberforth must have known his brother was courting Madam Puddifoot. The whole village knew, for Merlin's sake! He calculated that they would have been exchanging their vows at about the time he began making her Valentine's card. He ground his teeth.

"That little snake! That rat! That foul, fiendish, misbegotten, treacherous, stinking…." A few more plants keeled over as he cursed Aberforth as thoroughly as his 160 year vocabulary would allow, which, if one remembers that many of those years were spent living with hundreds of schoolchildren, was pretty thoroughly.

After a while he ran out of swear words (and indeed, plants), sinking into his chair to curse the dark and evil night when his brother had entered the world. Being only two, his memories of anything before the event were few and hazy, but soon afterwards he was conscious that his young life spiralling downhill rapidly. For some reason, it was always Albus' fault when Aberforth did something bad. Aberforth, being Aberforth, did bad things very often. Nowadays, he would have been called 'dyslexic' but back in the 1870s he was just plain 'stupid' and he hated it, lashing out at every taunt, both real and imaginary. He grew up mean, short-tempered and brutal, and most of the time, Albus pitied him as a victim of an academia-based society. How was a child supposed to spell 'Wingardium Leviosa' when he had trouble with 'Abe'?

Albus remembered being found curled up in a window seat by Nearly-Headless Nick one rainy evening, unable to bear the shame of being the only boy in Gryffindor to be bossed around, teased and generally bullied by their _younger_ sibling.

Nick listened to the catalogue of abuse and upset for a good half hour before reaching the only possible conclusion.

"Just smack him, my lad," he advised. "Sadly, it would seem to be the only language he understands."

"You sound like Father," Albus moaned. He had hated the beatings their frustrated parents had meted out to Aberforth, not through any fraternal solidarity, but because Abe had long ago made the rule that whatever he received he would passed on later to 'Almighty Al, the world's most bloody perfect big brother'. With interest.

Fortunately, before he had chance to act on the ghost's advice, and to the general relief of all staff and students, Aberforth had been expelled from Hogwarts and had his wand snapped in half. Albus, fourteen and hitherto painfully shy, was finally able to blossom and concentrate on his studies, while Aberforth remained far away at home, getting through private tutors at the rate of one per fortnight. Their parents raised no objections when Albus asked to stay at school for the holidays.

And now, this.

For an uncharitable moment, Albus suspected that he had spirited Madam Puddifoot away and married her jut to spite him. However, she was far from being a wilting flower, Albus had the bruises to prove it. There was no way she would allow an unwanted admirer to pressure her into doing something against her will, so he had no choice but to conclude that she had taken a shine to some previously well-hidden quality of Aberforth's.

By mutual agreement, the brothers kept their dealings as grown ups to a minimum, knowing how much they irritated each other if left alone for any length of time, so Albus had not had much chance to observe Abe's mental development in any detail. Could it be that the cantankerous hell raiser had decided to settle down in his twilight years? Had he looked around him, much as his older brother had been doing since the departure of his familiar, and found his solitary life wanting? Fifty years ago it would have been an inconceivable thought.

"People do change," Dumbledore said aloud. It was true. One had only to look at Severus. Existing on a staple diet of Hufflepuffs and vitriol as recently as two years ago, the former Dark Prince of Sarcasm was now sporting a rosy glow as he cradled his baby daughter.

Letting his anger at Aberforth evaporate, Albus thought once again how charming Saskia had looked in her new woolly boots, and how impertinently Severus had criticised them. Remus Lupin might not realise it just at the minute, but he was a tremendously lucky man to claim such relations.

"How pleasant it must be to have a nice family," he reflected to the empty room.

…….

Snape vanished a dirty nappy and put Saskia down for a nap, reassuring her that she was a good girl and that her Papa loved her very much. His hips were still painful, but experimentation proved he was able to walk stiffly, so he tried a little exercise. The stairs looked steep and too serious a barrier to put between himself and the baby, so he contented himself with strolling slowly around the upstairs landing, occasionally peering out of the windows.

Pip appeared at his elbow.

"Master must be careful!" she chided gently. "Must not fall!"

"I am taking care, Pip," he told her crossly. "I haven't moved from that bed in days. I have to move or I shall go mad."

"Mm," she sounded unconvinced. "Why not be sitting in the window-seat, Master? Can still hear little Mistress if she be's crying, but nice change of space."

"Very well," he sighed, allowing her to conjure a blanket and wrap it snugly around his legs.

"Master would like to read Prophet paper? Has a picture of that nasty burglar-boy!" she handed it over with a sniff of disgust.

Assuming that the 'nasty burglar-boy' was a reference to the time Potter had sneaked into his house uninvited, Snape frowned. He had no wish to read the latest ode to the Living Wonder. As he unfolded the newspaper and saw the photograph, the scowl changed to a look of incredulity.

Pip had just begun dusting the spare room when she was startled by a most unusual sound coming from the window-seat. Dropping her cloth in alarm she dashed out to see if her beloved Master was all right and not experiencing some terrible pain. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was making the same odd noise over and over again.

"Oh, Master, Master! Is you OK? Shall Pip be fetching Mr Healer?" her bony fingers clutched at his arm in fear.

"No, no," gasped Snape. "I am perfectly well, thank you, Pip."

"Then why is you making that funny noise?" she scowled at him suspiciously. "Pip has never heard it before!"

"Noise?" he wiped his eyes, not understanding.

"Noise!" she confirmed sternly. "Funny noise!"

Snape smirked at her in what was a kindly fashion, by his standards.

"Oh, I see. Nothing to be concerned about, Pip. I was merely laughing."

…….

Harry awoke the next morning with a headache from crying himself to sleep. Before he had chance to reassess his current mental situation, an unfamiliar owl with a navy blue and gold striped band around each leg tapped on his bedroom window. As the envelope it carried didn't appear to be a howler, he crawled out of bed and let the bird in.

"Sorry, I don't have any owl treats," he apologised. "But Neville insists there are mice in the kitchen. Why don't you go and see what you can catch?" The owl glared at him as though this were a major inconvenience, but hopped through the door anyway.

The crest on the back of the letter featured two crossed bulrushes standing in a gleaming pool of water, with a sunrise behind it. A little banner running underneath the logo read '1163 – with us did it begin'.

"Puddlemere United," murmured Harry to himself, recognising the colours with a sense of foreboding. He broke the seal and began to read.

**Dear Mr Potter,**

**Further to our conversation on Friday (at around midnight, I believe) I would like to invite you to Puddle Park on Monday 23rd February at 10:00am to try out for the position of Seeker.**

**Unlike some clubs, P.U. has never been interested in the private lives of its players. We would only interfere in the event of a player's performance being affected by off-pitch activity. We find that the occasional scandal has a positive effect on ticket sales. **

**Please send acceptance by return owl.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Fergus Alexson, Coach, Puddlemere United.**

Harry stared and stared and stared. He could not remember speaking to the coach in the club, but then there seemed to be lots of things about that night he failed to remember. He hadn't played since leaving school, though he had done a fair bit of pursuit flying as part of his auror training. He turned the envelope over to make sure it was actually addressed to him, then performed a quick analysis spell to make certain the handwriting did not belong to Fred or George, as experience had taught him that 'Constant Vigilance' applied to his dealings with certain friends as well as his enemies.

A series of small thumps and scuffling sounds came from the kitchen as he sat, stunned, on the edge of the bed. He was free and single, with a whole year's sabbatical to fill. Even if the tryout was successful and they offered him a place on the team, or in the reserves, he need not accept. It would be fun to play Quidditch again. And he really ought to apologise to Oliver for all the publicity their unfortunate drunken kiss had generated. He picked up a quill.

**Dear Mr Alexson,**

**I'll be there.**

**Harry Potter.**

…….

AN: Happy New Year everyone! Thanks for reading the latest instalment. I'd love to hear what you think!

I know I got a bit carried away with the Aberforth Dumbledore bit, but I've been interested in the idea of dyslexia in the wizarding world for some time. I've been told that it's hard work trying to process all those Latinate incantations and complicated names. I'm sure that nowadays the condition would be well understood, (there may even be potions to help), but sadly Aberforth was not treated very well by his parents or the school. And I couldn't resist putting in bullied!Albus.

Apologies to Harry/Remus shippers, but it had to happen. I think they will always have a special kind of love for each other. But will Remus and Severus make a go of it? Will they want to? Or will external forces interfere again? How will Harry fare at Puddle Park?

Thanks for some wonderful reviews so far!

Love SN x

PS Apologies to and Manchester United fans. I couldn't help myself.


	13. The Same Mistake Twice

**Tonks,**

**Is playing professional Quidditch a suitable way to spend a sabbatical?**

**Regards,**

**Harry.**

……

**H,**

**You tell me.**

**T.**

……

**Dear Chief Auror Tonks,**

**This letter is to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that I will be spending my year out playing professional Quidditch as Seeker with Puddlemere United.**

**I believe that this experience will be worthwhile for the following reasons:**

**- It will develop my teambuilding skills.**

**- It will enhance my reflexes.**

**- It will enable me to make faster decisions under pressure.**

**- My fitness and airborne pursuit stats will be enhanced.**

**- I will become more comfortable with media attention.**

**- Training will be given in how to publicly represent my institution and the game in general in the public sphere.**

Harry paused for a moment, sucking the end of his quill pensively, before adding.

**- It will be a lot of fun. **

**Please do not hesitate to contact me if there are any queries. I look forward to returning to the MLE in a year's time.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Junior Auror Harry James Potter, O.M.(1st)**

…….

At three weeks of age, Alexandra Lucy Lupin-Snape was rapidly becoming gorgeous.

Everyone who saw her exclaimed over her dark hair and big brown eyes, her rosebud mouth and long slender fingers. Lupin's heart almost broke whenever he held her. Snape had grown an extra few inches in height out of pure smugness.

Following lengthy discussion, Severus had forced himself to swallow his terror once more and brought the baby to Lupin' flat at full moon to meet her Daddy's alter ego. It had taken him a long time to decide whether to involve Remus or just go straight ahead and do it, like his last bonding visit to the wolf's lair. He had decided that it was potentially too dangerous a procedure to allow any mistakes, so consulted with Lupin over prudence of the move. The werewolf had been surprised but undeniably pleased, and had gone strangely misty-eyed at Snape's "sweet idea". Snape decided not to mention that he was only putting himself through the horror of seeing the foul beast for Alexandra's safety and protection, but if the fool of a Gryffindor chose to view it as some kind of mawkish family bonding exercise, then that was his own problem.

Shaking so hard his teeth rattled, he sat on the floor near the fireplace and stretched out his arms so the enormous dark beast could see its cub. Sensing her father's fear, Saskia mewed and wriggled unhappily.

"Shh, t…treasure," Snape stammered, reassuring himself as much as her. "Everything's all right. It's only Daddy as a wolf."

The docile grey wolf raised its head in interest, sniffing the air.

_Mate!_

"Remus?"

_Mate is here! But afraid. Silly Mate, should not be afraid of me. And not alone. Another creature. Smells familiar. A bit like Mate, a bit like something else. Makes an odd sound._

He padded over to investigate and Severus had to bite his lip to prevent himself crying out as the wolf buried his nose in Saskia's blanket and took a hearty snort of her scent.

_Cub! Of course. Mate has brought Cub to show me! Is afraid I will reject them both._

Yellow eyes stared up at Snape and he gave a whimper of relief as he saw the tufted tail begin to wag cheerfully. The wolf turned its attention back to the baby and licked her from chin to forehead to reassure the human that he recognised his own young. Saskia, not in the least put out at receiving her second bath of the day, reached out and grabbed a handful of Lupin's whiskers. The wolf gave a yip of surprise.

"Eeeaah," Saksia answered him.

Snape heaved a deep sigh of contentment. He had a wonderful feeling that everything was going to work out for the best.

…….

Remus was loving his new life. The pain of splitting up with Harry still flared frequently, but hours of playing with the baby and planning her future with Severus kept him too busy to brood. He had taken to spending most of the day at Maltings Lane, and occasionally he stayed in the spare bedroom to let Snape have a more substantial night's sleep.

Saskia had been unimpressed the first time Remus had offered her pumped breastmilk from a bottle. In fact, she had yelled herself blue and got hiccups. Snape snatched her back and cursed Lupin quietly for having such a stupid idea. Standing his ground, Remus had suggested that Severus remove his top while trying to feeding her with the bottle, so that everything felt normal except for the artificial teat, then once she had grown used to the change, to give him another try.

"What do you think, treasure?" Snape had asked, managing to keep his voice soft while simultaneously sneering at Lupin. Saskia gave a dubious little growl-hic.

"Now, ickle Poppet, um don't know until um try," Remus smiled and stroked her little face. "And if sweetiepie will just let Daddy feed her, Papa can go bye-byes."

"Lupin!" hissed Snape. "You will cease babbling that demented gibberish at my daughter! I will not have her growing up with the grammatical understanding of a house-elf."

Eventually, the baby caved in, realising that the milk was exactly the same whoever distributed it, and some nights Severus was able to retire for more than three hours at a stretch, a soothing purée of mint and cucumber on each raw nipple.

There had been no mention of both parents sharing a bed.

Remus was very fond of Severus and Severus found himself able to tolerate the werewolf – the bond they shared was a strong one, after all – but neither showed any interest in taking things any further than their tentative comradeship. Snape had got exactly what he wanted in the beginning. Lupin was frequently around to help raise their daughter without being constantly underfoot. He introduced her to his many acquaintances, who were all keen to take turns at cuddling, playing, babysitting or out-and-out spoiling. Though most were wary of Snape at first, they thawed a little on seeing him interact with his baby, and once Rita Skeeter had delivered her feature-length piece, they tended to voluntarily approach him to ask about the rare occurrence of a male pregnancy.

To Lupin's surprise, Snape would often answer. Sometimes, he would even answer politely.

As Dumbledore had surmised a few weeks before, Remus found it delightful to suddenly have family. His life had been worth so little just a few months ago, now he was determined to look after his health, for once, and to try and make himself a better person so that Alexandra would not be ashamed of him when she grew.

He was pleased that Harry had made such brilliant use of his gap year, and encouraged him by going to as many games as he could. He was rather ashamed of the slight pang of jealousy he felt whenever he thought of Puddlemere United – not only about what Harry was probably up to with Oliver, but also of the glittering future which beckoned for the young man. Not that he begrudged him fun and happiness, not for one minute; rather Remus was ashamed at the way it highlighted his own lack of direction. Snape was a highly-skilled potions genius – what would he tell Saskia when she asked what her other Daddy did? For the first time since completing his book, he began considering his career options.

One night, while cradling a restless baby in the great oak rocking chair, the idea came to him. His war memoir had been a bestseller. In the aftermath of the conflict, while everyone was dizzy from the final victory and before his life had settled down into its empty routine, he had been hailed as a fine writer. Praise for his courage at being able to commit his experiences to paper had poured in from every continent. Since then, scores of others had told their own tales with varying degrees of sentiment, or indeed, accuracy. But at four o'clock that morning, halfway through 'Ten Bad Pixies, Knocking Down a Wall', Lupin got himself all excited.

He would write a book about the impact of the war on wizarding society today. He could not be the only person to have had bouts of depression, borderline alcoholism, sporadic agoraphobia and the like. If he could do some research, get enough material from other veterans to explore the effects on individuals….

He stood up and began to pace. Not all results of the conflict were bad – many people had married their former comrades, had children, new charities had been set up, laws had been passed. In fact, there would be rather too much material to wade through. Perhaps more than one book. He could write a volume on social repercussions, and a separate one of more personal stories, though he might have to change some names for that.

Saskia had gone back to sleep, so he laid her gently back into her crib and crept down to the study to make a few notes in case he forgot his ideas in the morning.

As a rule, he tried to avoid Severus' study, though he was not completely forbidden from entering it, as with the basement laboratory. He had absolutely no problem with that rule, feeling that it was just as much for his wellbeing as for Snape's privacy. The study was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, each crammed with books under shrinking charms to save space, and restraining spells for safety reasons. Snape's mahogany desk was tucked into the corner nearest the hearth, each solid drawer fastened with spells dark enough to curl the hair of even the doughtiest evil wizard.

Lupin lit the fire and settled down at the desk, deliberately leaving the door open in case the baby awoke. He pulled out a quill but could not see any parchment. A cursory glance around for writing material revealed nothing of use. Even the bin had been emptied of scrap. He did not want to wake Pip to ask where Severus kept his paper, much less Severus himself. He frowned. Reaching for his wand he tried:

"Accio Parchment!"

He dived for safety under the desk as hundreds of exam scripts cascaded onto him from the shelf behind his head like a papery tsunami. When they finally stopped, he shuffled half-heartedly through them, but every page was strewn with text, diagrams and incomprehensible calculations.

"Accio Scrap-paper!" he tried. Pip's bag of baking-paper offcuts flew in from the kitchen and landed in his lap. House elves were peculiar creatures. They hoarded some items compulsively whilst being utterly ruthless about clearing out others. He was glad he had never accidentally summoned her beloved collection of bottle tops.

"Accio Notebook-with-some-blank-pages-left-in-it!" he decided to be more specific, throwing a little more magical power into the spell than the previous attempts.

This time a slim, leather-bound book fluttered into his hand and he sighed with satisfaction.

Snape awoke with a start and had crawled halfway out of bed to attend to the baby before he realised that she was not actually crying. He sat still, trying to work out what had woken him. Gone were his days of being a light sleeper – now he could nod off anytime, anywhere and sleep like the dead, disturbed only by the penetrative wails of his bundle of joy. After a moment he heard a small sound from the room directly beneath his bedroom. His hand flew to his wand immediately.

All the known Death Eaters had been rounded up, save one, the treacherous rodent Wormtail. No one was seriously worried. It was generally believed that he was too cowardly to risk capture by trying to harm anyone, more likely he had gone to ground abroad somewhere, changed his identity and started afresh. The Ministry kept itself informed of any unusual activity, but as Tonks had put it when Harry protested that the man responsible for resurrecting Voldemort was still at large – "We can't wade through the entire world's sewer systems looking for one single rat."

Snape did not really fear attack from Pettigrew, but unknown supporters of the Dark Lord were another matter. Not everyone had been fool enough to be caught with their tattoos showing, and these nameless, formless threats were impossible to track down.

Not wanting to risk the creaking floorboards, he remained seated on the edge of the bed.

"Pip," the whisper was barely audible, but the little creature appeared three seconds later, blinking sleepily. He raised a finger to his lips. Her eyes went wide and she nodded in acknowledgment. "Who is downstairs? Friend or foe?" he mouthed.

Snape watched in fascination as Pip screwed up her ugly face in concentration and rose a quarter of an inch off the floor as she attuned herself to all the vibrations and magical currents inside in the house. House-elves were highly powerful magical creatures, he couldn't help but wonder why they had never decided to overthrow their human masters and take over the world. They were clearly capable of it. He suspected that only the rudeness of doing such a thing was holding them back. Elves lived to be polite.

"Only Master Lupin," she whispered at last. "Little Mistress being asleep safe in her cot. Sucking on fingers."

"Pip, you are amazing, thank you. I am sorry to have disturbed your sleep," he sighed with relief, irritated with himself but unashamed of his paranoia. It had saved more lives than his own over the years. The elf glowed at the compliment and tried to force cocoa, biscuits and marshmallows on him until he had to become rather stern. She went back to bed with drooping ears and Severus descended the stairs with mild exasperation.

He was glad to have taken his wand when he reached the study and found Lupin sitting at the desk with his nose buried in a book. The werewolf looked up slowly and for a horrible moment, Severus feared that the glassy, dead look in his eyes could only be the result of a curse.

"Lupin?" he asked, gripping his wand tightly. He didn't want to hurt the other wizard, but if he was under Imperius and a threat to Saskia, Snape knew he would kill him without a further thought.

"How could you?" Remus asked in a flat, wounded tone.

"What are you talking about?" demanded the potions master haughtily, not relaxing one iota. "How could I do what?"

"THIS!" roared Lupin, switching from listless to incandescent with a suddenness which would have staggered anyone other than Severus Snape. He flung the notebook violently at the darker man's face, but it stopped it in mid-air thanks to a lightening quick spell and Snape looked closely to see what had so upset the usually inoffensive wizard.

Ah.

Cursing his meticulous nature, Snape took hold of his book of lists and placed it in his pocket. So Lupin had discovered the truth about Saskia's conception. How could he have been so unbelievably stupid? To allow a stranger to find it once was shameful, but to make the same mistake twice amounted to certifiable lunacy. It could only be a result of severe hormonal disruption and pre-natal brain shrinkage. Was this the level of self-reprimand and shame which drove elves to mutilate themselves in atonement for their mistakes?

Automatically concealing his inner anger, he tightened his dressing-gown cord and looked down at the glowering werewolf superciliously.

"I shall thank you, Lupin, not to go sneaking around my study in the middle of the night, reading personal docum…"

"SHUT UP!" he spat. "Don't you DARE start lecturing when you've used me so badly! Were you planning to tell me? Ever? Sirius was right about you! You're a deceitful, manipulative heartless bastard incapable of any real emotion. Everyone says having that kid is the only decent thing you've done in your whole life, but you even had to lie and cheat to get pregnant! You are the most contemptible individual I have had the misfortune to meet!"

"Fling at me whichever insults you deem necessary to assuage your wounded ego, Lupin," Snape replied coolly. "But I will not allow you to refer to our daughter as 'that kid' in such a disgusted tone of voice."

Remus visibly deflated again.

"Why, Severus, why didn't you just ask me?" he asked, with loathing in his voice, his posture, his eyes.

"You might have refused," Snape replied, as though stating the obvious. "Hate me, Lupin, I am accustomed to being hated, however I must beg you not to hold this against Saskia. She is wholly innocent of any immorality."

Shaking his head from side to side as though incapable of grasping such a revolting discovery, he muttered;

"Why does everyone I care for betray me?"

"Oh please, spare me the melodrama about your poor, miserable life," sneered Snape. "I hardly think becoming a father without your consent can be compared with having two of your best friends murdered by a third."

Though he had not been referring to that particular act of betrayal, the lingering pain of it rekindled Lupin's ferocity in an instant.

"Don't you dare talk about my friends! You know nothing about them, or about friendship in general because you're too bloody nasty to have ever had anyone who gives a stuff about you, _Snivellus!_"

Careless of the fact that he was still in his pyjamas, Lupin stormed out of the study and through to the sitting-room, where Snape heard him shout his own address and disappear into the fireplace with a whoosh of flame.

Severus' heart pounded in the painful silence. He had messed it all up. Lupin had gone and was not coming back, leaving his little girl to be raised by an anti-social, friendless single parent.

"Master not friendless," said Pip in a small voice from the doorway, where she had been hiding, trembling as the incomprehensible argument raged.

"Pip, please do not read my mind," said Snape in an exhausted voice.

"Sorry," she replied, but offered no grovelling withdrawal of her statement. It was being the truth! There was Master Long Beard and Mistress Rosy Cheeks who was both very good friends to Master and Little Miss. But she was not mentioning it at the moment.

A hearty wailing began from the nursery upstairs, and Severus mechanically turned his attention to his daughter, filing away his bitterness for another time. He had told Lupin the truth – none of this dreadful mess was Alexandra's fault. He would not upset her by being angry now.

…….

The ground fell away beneath Harry as he rocketed through the air after the snitch and he felt his soul soaring ahead of him. The March air was cold against his face but the blue sky was full of twittering birds darting out of his way, suggesting for the first time that Spring was finally on its way. He stifled the manic grin which broke out when he flew, Coach had accused him of looking like a 'bleedin' imbecile' half the time he was airborne.

Understandably, the professional game was harder than school Quidditch. The snitch was faster, the pitch larger, the bludgers heavier and the competition more intense. The rivalry between Puddlemere and their sworn enemies, the Ballycastle Bats, made even the nastiest of Gryffindor-Slytherin grudge-matches look like a disagreement over tea and scones, and Harry had actually feared for his life when a misjudged feint caused him to foul the Bats' keeper behind the referee's back during his first match.

Yet the new challenges exhilarated him. Being able to devote all his time to doing the activity he loved most was an incredible feeling and he plunged his whole concentration into training, fitness and studying strategies. For once, the focus of his life did not involve murder and large-scale horror. He never mentioned it in Puddlemere, of course, but it felt great to know that if he failed any of his current tasks, nobody was going to die. Hopefully.

His PU team mates were dubious of the famous amateur at first, filling his boots with stinksap, dumping him fully clothed in the locker-room bath and so on, but soon gave up when they realised that no initiation test their athlete's brains could devise would ever be as frightful as an hour spent with the Weasley twins.

He turned to look at the pitch below as the sound of shouting broke his reverie. While Coach Alexson was engaged in a screaming match with the Beaters, one of the Chasers stopped to watch the show and was facing the wrong way when the two unattended bludgers smacked her in the back of the neck. Harry winced as the loud cracking sound echoed through the training ground. Alexson paused to take in the accident, then began yelling even louder than before. Harry swooped down to listen.

"…bleedin' shambles…never in all my live-long days…can't even stay on your brooms during a _training session_…flying like a load of fairies…mincemeat of you next Saturday and I'll never be able to hold my head up at the Coach's Club again…back in those changing rooms now before I throttle the lot of you…I said _NOW!_..."

It was all eerily familiar. Harry got the gist and pointed his broom towards the club buildings.

"Hoi, Superstar!" the coach turned to him as he dismounted. "I want you in the simulator all afternoon. I wanna test your coordination when you're knackered after a long match! At least four hours. Gottit?"

"Yes, Coach!" he agreed.

"And for the last time, you can wipe that bleedin' smirk off your face, my lad!"

"Yes, Coach!" the more he tried, the harder it became.

"Oh, Digby tells me there's one of your groupies in Reception," he leered. "You know my views on hanky-panky before a match?"

"Yes, Coach?"

"Well, they apply to training sessions too!" Fergus threatened.

"Yes, Coach!"

Harry was delighted to find Remus waiting for him in reception, and both were amused by the 'groupie' comment. They headed into town for a light lunch before the afternoon training session. Harry did not notice the irony of his choice of pub until Remus wryly pointed it out.

"Are you in the Keeper's Arms very often?" he asked mildly. Harry flushed scarlet and Remus immediately felt ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, Harry, that wasn't fair. Excuse me, I've had a bit of a shock."

"Oliver and I aren't really together," he said offhandedly. "We're just friends with benefits. But what's happened to you? Are you OK?"

"Severus," he began, then stopped. He was still reeling from the shock of being deceived over the greatest event in his life so far. Two plates of food arrived and were placed on the table in front of them but the scent turned Lupin's stomach. Harry, who had no such problems after a hard morning's flying, gave a snort as he dug in.

"What's the old git done now?" he felt an urge of protectiveness towards Remus.

"He lied to me," said Remus in a small voice. The Quidditch player managed not to roll his eyes. Snape lived his whole life in lies and deception. "About Saskia's conception. He told me at the time it was an accident, but last night I found a list…"

This time, Harry was unable to restrain the groan.

"Oh, Merlin, Remus. You should know better than to trust him! He isn't the type to lose himself in passion and get knocked up by accident! He sat down with his nasty little book and plotted and schemed until he decided who was the most profitable person to entrap. It's disgusting."

Remus stared at him aghast.

"You knew?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably at the memory of discovering the book, being caught breaking and entering and being forced to keep the secret. He put his fork down gently.

"I found out that day when Mrs Weasley and Dumbledore caught me at Snape's place, when my final exam paper was in the room. Do you remember? It was sort of mutual blackmail – I kept quiet about the list if he didn't claim that I'd been cheating. If I had told you he could have had me kicked out of the Ministry in disgrace. With Molly and Albus as witnesses, it would have only taken one word from him," it had seemed vitally important at the time but now, far from the MLE with the exam a distant memory, the threat was much less effective. A much feebler reason to keep such an important secret from someone you loved.

Lupin swallowed with some difficulty, prodding listlessly at his vegetarian lasagne without really seeing it. He knew he ought to speak, if only to put dear Harry at ease, but no words would come.

"Remus," said Harry quietly. "I'm sorry. What will you do about this?"

"I don't know," he really didn't. Alexandra was his daughter; he loved her more than anything, but at that moment the thought of her existence made him mildly sick.

Harry was at a total loss. He dared not suggest never visiting Snape again, because that would estrange a parent and child – something he would never willingly do. Neither would his gentle ex-lover ever permit him to have a go at Snape in revenge. Actually, 'having a go' at Snape was a spectacularly bad idea anyway. For all his auror qualifications and his Order of Merlin awarded for the slaying of Voldemort, Harry knew he wouldn't stand much chance in a one-to-one fight with the potions master.

The memory of a rampaging Hungarian Horntail sprang unbidden to his mind, along with the warning that nesting mothers were the most ferocious creatures of all when protecting their young. His imagination gave the dragon a wand, and over forty years' practical experience of the dark arts. He gulped. He amended his earlier assessment to 'a snowball's chance in hell'.

His heart was bleeding for the older man, but he had no clue what to advise him to do. He thought of the way the twins often cheered people up with a bit of teasing.

"Look on the bright side," he winked, "The rest of us poor inferior beings were rejected as not good enough for his exacting standards. You were his ideal choice!"

The blank stare was not what the new Seeker had been hoping for. He looked at Harry, then at the congealing lasagne, then back at Harry.

"I never thought of it like that," he blinked. A wan smile played about the edges of Lupin's lips as he digested the information. "So you're saying that Severus…_admires_ me?"

That was not what Harry had been trying to say at all. He backtracked hastily.

"I wouldn't go that far. He just looked at having a baby like…like he would brew a potion. He assessed all the available ingredients and chose the one which would produce the best results!"

"So, he wrote a list of every man he knew and I was the best?" Remus still looked dazed. He was not used to being the best at anything, yet Snape had obviously thought so. He had used scientific methods to prove it.

"Er," Harry was on dangerous ground here, unable to contradict him, yet unwilling to agree. In the end, he turned back to his plate without commenting either way.

…….

Snape returned from his emergency meeting with Albus feeling marginally less despondent. Hoping to get his own side of the story in before Remus delivered his, he had gone to Cosy Toes as early that morning as was decent to confess, taking Saskia with him as an emotional decoy.

He need not have worried. Dumbledore had listened to his edited version of events with something akin to amazed admiration on his face – the old manipulator clearly respected a fine example of his own dearest craft.

"Naughty Severus!" he had chided, though his eyes twinkled as he jigged the baby gently on his knee. "Alexandra, if you grow up to be half as cunning as your Papa, then the world had better watch out."

Her beautiful big eyes inspected him at length, visibly melting the old wizard's heart. Snape capitalised on his daughter's cuteness by biting his lower lip and sounding as contrite as his caustic personality would allow.

"I know it was wrong. I just wanted some family to love," he said quietly.

Albus pulled Saskia against his chest for a proper cuddle, allowing her to snuggle into his beard. His voice was strangely thick when he answered a few moments later.

"I understand, Severus. Completely."

When he left, the former headmaster had an odd, pensive expression on his face, as though the visit had made him begin pondering a highly important issue.

Saskia had fallen asleep soon after arriving back home. As Snape headed downstairs after putting her to bed in the nursery, he had begun planning his latest strategy when he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. He froze.

He was the first to admit that he was not much of a looker. Had never been, in fact. He was well aware that even at the zenith of their youthful relationship, Lucius had been more attracted by his peculiar brand of devious intelligence than any physical attribute, and aside from Darius Westwood-Booth's frankly bizarre long-term hero-worship, no one else had shown the slightest sexual interest in him. His enemies had called him ugly, mocked his hair, skin and nose, even his parents had sighed over his lack of charm when he was a child. He was under no illusions about his appearance.

Yet it still came as a shock to see the reflection staring back at him that morning. He had been too occupied with pregnancy and the ups and downs of parenthood to notice the changes as they slowly crept over him.

After barely leaving the house for months, his face was the worst shade of jaundice-yellow it had ever been. Despite having bathed less than two hours ago, his skin was already shiny with a layer of oil, with two pus-filled pimples nestling on the left side of his great beak of a nose. Hormones, he supposed, had unfeelingly converted bad to worse. Purplish bags lowlighted his eyes, testament to the constant disruption of his sleep. Most surprising of all was his chin. Chins, rather. It had been necessary to gain some weight in order to safely bring the baby to term, but the combination of all those months of reduced activity, overeating and the loss of his old schooltime routine of relentless corridor-stalking had made him decidedly…there was no other word for it…podgy.

He sneered at the mirror in distaste, which did nothing to improve the view. Taking a step backwards, he unbuttoned his outer robe and inspected his flabby waistline and the damp patch on his chest where his left breast had leaked, yet again, with mounting horror. How could the perfect little creature upstairs be in any way connected with the hideous thing who had borne her? This would not do at all.

Snape knew that nothing short of radical physiology-altering potions would ever make him handsome, but he could at least try and get himself back to the level of ugliness to which he had been accustomed before the birth. Exercise, more fresh air (though the thought of it made his lip curl, it would be better for Saskia too), specialist skin treatments and some kind of device to stop him dripping milk all over the place. He might consult Molly about the last thing. She would know.

All these measures would take time to bear fruit. For the moment there was nothing he could do to improve himself, no quick-fix solution to sweeten the unpleasant revelation that he was a really nasty-looking beast in the meantime. Or was there? He examined his lank, greasy hair, which had grown during his pregnancy so that it now hung limply past his shoulders and down his back.

He had never gone to the trouble of doing his hair for his own benefit before – only as a special treat for Lucius or to get his way when in confrontation with an adversary. However, at that moment, the idea of having just one single non-repellent feature became suddenly appealing.

Ignoring the twinge of masculine scorn at the idea of acquiring self-confidence by endeavouring to _beautify _himself, he headed for the bathroom and activated the Secret Weapon.

…….

AN: Yay! Approximately 7 chapters later than I anticipated, the SW comes out again! Let's see what havoc it manages to wreak this time.

Of course, when Fergus Alexson accuses them of flying like fairies, he is not making any comment on the sexuality of his players, he is talking about _actual_ fairies…

Thanks for reading, and another huge thank you for all the kind reviews. I seem to have 'Ten bad pixies, knocking down a wall' in my head after writing this chapter. I apologise if anyone else is suffering too.

PS Happy Belated Birthday to Severus on 9th Jan! Bless his conniving little heart.


	14. More Choices to Make

Two hours later, Snape was finished. The bathroom was littered with empty bottles and he felt slightly drained from all the magical effort which had been required to create the effect, but as he gazed into the mirror, a satisfied smirk slunk across his face. It had all been worth it.

He flicked his head to the side like the skinny witches who advertised shampoo in the Prophet and a cloud of soft, shiny black silk swung after him. He ran both hands through the luxuriant tresses, longer than they had ever been, letting them swish elegantly back into place. He felt his spirits lift. He was still overweight, worn-looking and spotty of course, but no one he had ever known had been able to boast such beautiful hair. Not even Malfoy.

Though to the casual observer, Lucius' golden mane would have done justice to an angel, Snape knew from personal experience that its texture was actually rather coarse to the touch as a result of all the potions required to maintain the heavenly hue. Years ago, Severus had applied Peroxidium Worthitum to Malfoy's mousy-brown roots twice a week.

Lucius would have loved this new, longer length, Severus thought, but shook himself before he could get lost in memories of the only man he had truly cared about. Lucius was dead. Only the baby mattered now.

On cue, Saskia awoke and began babbling to herself, so he strode over to the nursery to talk to her.

"Look, treasure! Papa is not ugly all of the time," he beamed down into the crib. He dangled a glossy lock of hair over her. She frowned and tried to coordinate her little hands enough to catch it, kicking her legs and dribbling in concentration. "Merlin, you do look like your Daddy when you do that," he told her. "Except for the moustache. I wonder if he will come back. Do you suppose I have I ruined your future with my duplicity?"

"Mmnnni," said Saskia, noncommittally.

He lifted her up and leaned her against his shoulder, where she immediately fitted her head under his chin and began eating his hair.

"No. I have told you before, treasure, you are far too young to be on solids," he reminded her, glad to have added a neutralising solution to his third batch of conditioner so she would not ingest anything unpleasant.

Downstairs in the sitting-room, he lay back on the sofa in the position which had served him well during the later, 'whale' stages of pregnancy, with his head resting on one upholstered arm and his feet on the other. He was confiding his fears to his daughter, holding her up above him with her brown eyes and his black ones fixed on each other in mutual fascination, when Dumbledore arrived. The touching sight of father-child adoration stole the old man's breath away for a second.

"Good afternoon, Albus," said Snape as he stood staring.

"Severus, Alexandra," he caught himself and smiled fondly at them. Saskia ignored him in favour of inspecting her right fist. "I hope I am not disturbing you?"

"No," Snape replied, lowering the baby onto his stomach. "I only left Cosy Toes two hours ago, has something happened?"

"Nothing to cause concern," Dumbledore assured him. "I have merely spent time reflecting upon some issues which have troubled me for a while. Happily, I reached a conclusion."

Alarmed by the formal tone which Albus had adopted, Snape began to sit up, but was waved down again.

"Please, Severus, stay as you are."

"Then will you sit?" he indicated the armchair opposite. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Thank you, I prefer to stand for the moment." He cleared his throat and folded his arms behind his back. "Being the intelligent young man that you are, my dear, I am certain you will form opinions as I proceed with my narrative. However, I must ask you to hear me out without interrupting, and then we can debate your questions when I have finished speaking. May I impose upon you thus?"

Really startled now, Snape nodded in agreement, letting a few strands of silken hair tumble into his eyes. Dumbledore gasped.

"My boy!" he exclaimed, jolted from his stiff manner. "Your…your hair! I have never…how did you…what happened?" He raised his hand and moved forward as if to touch it. Severus instantly fired off a spell to pin it back out the way.

"I have only done this a handful of times as it requires a lot of work," he hoped that the warm feeling in his cheeks and neck did not mean he was blushing. "I only just noticed how my looks had deteriorated since the birth. I felt it necessary to do something."

"To cheer yourself up," Dumbledore added, smiling. He retracted his hand and slipped it behind his back again. "Well! It's charming, quite charming! Would it offend you if I suggested that you worked on it more often?"

"Yes," said Snape, defensively.

"I thought it might," he sighed sagely. "Anyway. As I said, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately.

"I am an old man, and I flatter myself that I have lived a full and interesting life. I have travelled the worlds, both magical and muggle, read as many books as I could, learned a great deal about life and an even greater deal about magic. I have worked towards defeating great evil on the battlefield and the even greater evils which dwell in the minds of men. Please excuse the arrogant overtones of my little introduction, but I am told that on the whole, my long life has brought some success and – dare I say it? – a degree of improvement to the lives of witches and wizards everywhere.

"During all these years of wonderful experiences, I have spared little thought to personal companionship. With Fawkes at my side, surrounded by friends and books, I fancied I was too busy to devote myself to another human being; that I was not the kind of man who relied on others for comfort. Alas, when I retired from Hogwarts at the end of an exhausting war, I discovered the days to be suddenly rather long and the nights to be cooler than I remembered them, no matter how thick my bedsocks. I attempted to fill the time with my lovely shop, writing letters to the newspaper and keeping up with Fawkes' increasingly hair-raising escapades. I soon discovered these distractions were not enough, so I began to dream of having a companion. Someone to whom I could chat while I knitted socks, who would reply in proper speech and not set things on fire when they grew bored." He paused to heave a great sigh. "In short, my boy, I found myself longing for a partner."

Molly had told Snape about the recent scandal involving Aberforth and Madam Puddifoot, so he braced himself for an outpouring of grief. Saskia had yawned extensively and fallen asleep near the beginning of the monologue and her warm, comforting presence was the only thing preventing the potions master from bolting at the sign imminent _emoting._ Dumbledore cracked his knuckles pensively and resumed.

"Aurora Puddifoot is a wonderful woman. I first noticed her extraordinary capacity for putting others in their place when she was still a student, the most memorable occasion being an altercation between herself and dear Minerva on the Quidditch field during a hard-fought Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game in 1944. Such language from the two of them! If my memory served me correctly, they were both hospitalised for several weeks once the staff managed to separate them. I solemnly believe fifteen year-old girls to be the most fearsome creatures on the planet."

Snape, mindful of the time that 'Rosy' Rosier had insinuated that Bellatrix's bottom looked larger than the average in her Yule ball gown, agreed without question. Poor old Rosy. Forgetting the 'no interruptions' rule, he had to ask;

"What position did Minerva play? I don't believe I ever ascertained."

A small shudder ran across Albus' shoulders.

"Beater," he whispered. They both nodded grimly.

"My natural bent towards confectionary led me to spend many pleasant moments in Madam Puddifoot's teashop after I retired, and I would find myself greatly diverted by the charms of the proprietress, though she seemed less taken with me. I confess that I developed something of an infatuation with her, particularly the way her eyes would flash as she brandished baking implements whenever Fawkes got loose in her kitchen." His old eyes misted over at the thought of it, or possibly the thought of having been denied it.

"As it turned out, I was not the object of her affection. Once I had recovered from the shock of losing her, or rather, losing the _idea_ of her, I came to realise that we were not very well suited as companions. Admiring a pair of fine eyes across a tea-table is quite different from offering to share the remainder of one's existence with someone. The fact that she felt close enough affinity with my unfortunate brother to willingly enter into matrimony with the cur settled the question absolutely."

"Evidently this happened for the best," interjected Snape philosophically, wondering, not for the first time, what bizarre strain of sexual chemistry attracted perfectly sensible females to irresponsible, louche or downright dangerous wizards.

"Quite so, my boy, quite so," he cleared his throat as punctuation, and began a new thread. "Earlier, I mentioned that, on the whole, I am satisfied with the way in which my life has played out. This does not mean, however, that I hold no regrets concerning my conduct on certain occasions. There is no need to examine my numerous mistakes in detail now, but I would have you know that one of my deepest regrets is how spectacularly I failed you, dearest Severus."

Snape turned away in embarrassment and frustration. His anger at the old man had contributed to the most shameful chapter in his history; his current feelings on the subject were not something he enjoyed discussing. The whole issue of Dumbledore's evilness vs. his benevolence had made his head spin since the day he had crawled back to Hogwarts, hopelessly lost and half-dead, not knowing what to expect and hardly possessing the strength to care. There were too many contradictions inside his mind to ever clarify the situation either way, so he tended to take everything the old man said at its contemporary value, and live in the moment. It was the only way he could maintain polite discussion.

"I let you down throughout your school career. It is too late now, perhaps, but I shall say it anyway. I am sorry, Severus. So very sorry."

There it was. Snape closed his eyes as the words sunk in. The apology he had waited for all his adult life. Someone had finally taken responsibility and admitted that they had wronged him. He had expected to feel some great sense of triumph or celebration on finally hearing the words, perhaps going on to detail in exactly how many ways his existence had been ruined by the neglect he had suffered in childhood.

Instead there was only a slight feeling of nausea at having been secretly right all these years.

Snape did not know how he was supposed to react. What was Dumbledore trying to achieve by bearing his soul like this? Did he expect forgiveness? He had the confusing impression that he had either privately forgiven him years ago; or else that he would never be able to forgive him. One or the other. Albus was still ignorant of the fact that his treatment of Snape had contributed to his teenage miscarriage – that in many ways he was just as guilty over the unborn baby's death as Lupin and Black.

His arms tightened around Alexandra. He was glad of the anchoring weight of the child sleeping innocently on his chest, reminding him that the future was more important than these pains from the past. He had already told himself once that day to stop grieving for situations that could no longer be changed and concentrate on raising his baby girl. His surviving child. His Girl-who-lived.

"You cannot imagine, dearest boy, how delighted I was that night when you returned. I had dared to hope that you would prove stronger than your own anger and succeed in pulling yourself back from the dread path which had, I am certain, looked like the only choice. Had the circumstances permitted, I would have rejoiced aloud, hugged you in the Great Hall and shouted my admiration for you from the top of the Astronomy Tower. As it stood, I could only say 'well done' in private and send you straight back to the hell which you had so recently fled."

"Why are you saying all of this now, Albus?" Snape croaked, his eyes still closed as he stroked Saskia's soft hair. It was almost impossible to imagine the shifty, ugly youth of nineteen receiving the same casual public affection which the leader of the Light Forces conferred upon his handsome favourites. Not that it was ever an option, given the precarious nature of his double life.

"Child, believe me, the last thing I wish to do is cause you more pain. I am afraid these things should have been said a long time ago," the old blue eyes were brimming with sorrow, not that Snape was able to meet them for long enough to notice. "I don't believe I ever told you how much I enjoyed our week-long chess games once you began teaching; our squabbles over the correct way to take tea, fitting punishments for misbehaving students and the thousand other matters we disagree on. There is something most…endearing in your caustic attitude which I have missed every day since leaving Hogwarts. You unusual personality seems to be an acquired taste which confounded me when you were little, but I find the older we become, the more I find myself drawn to you."

Black eyes snapped open at the last comment as a suspicion began to niggle at the back of the potion master's mind, concerning a possible connection between Dumbledore's confession of loneliness and his feelings for Snape. Surely he was mistaken? Albus could not possibly be leading up to…

"Which is why I was compelled to come here today, once I heard of your estrangement from Remus."

Snape's eyes slid closed again. Oh, Merlin! He was.

"You once informed me that, though you could not love Remus, you could live with him for the sake of providing a stable family for your daughter. Now that the boy has shown his disinterest in such an arrangement, I wonder if you would be able to consider myself as a suitable substitute?"

"Albus," Severus began, but was silenced immediately.

"Please, dearest, do hear me out. With your habitual selfless nature, you have endeavoured to act in Saskia's best interests since before she was even born. I do not wish to use her as leverage on your answer, but I firmly believe that I will be able to make a fine contribution to her future. She is a bonny child and I hope to be a part of her life whatever choice you make – you know how much I love young people! I am sure she and I will be great friends. If you wish, I shall wholeheartedly join in the great task of raising her, in the role of stepfather.

"I am fortunate to still wield considerable influence in any number of circles within wizarding Britain, and I will be able to use my contacts wherever possible to improve her life and yours, be it working against the prejudice surrounding male pregnancy or merely smoothing her path into the great wide world.

"Pray excuse the vulgarity of mentioning money, but you were ever a practical person, Severus. Cosy Toes is a modest enterprise with a small living space above the shop which I chose for comfort purposes only. Upon the death of my father over a century ago, I inherited the bulk of the Dumbledore estates in Somerset, including the family seat outside Glastonbury, Bourdon Hall, which I find excessively large for one person. I confess I have not made as much of the place as I could, but if you so chose, we could live there in style and have Saskia enjoy the extensive grounds, forests, the lake and all the other paraphernalia connected with an historic house. I think you will enjoy the library," he twinkled. "Eccentricity is an hereditary trait which my ancestors possessed by the cauldronful. There are some highly intriguing texts lurking in the darker recesses."

Snape stared mutely at the fire for a long time. Albus finally sat, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He did not push for an answer, seeming content to let the younger man reflect on what had been said. Eventually, Severus spoke.

"What exactly are you offering, Albus?" he asked, flashing a glare which suggested that he ought to get right to the point.

"A partnership. A second father to your daughter. A little comfort for you both. Remus will be welcome as often as you choose, naturally," Dumbledore paraphrased.

"And what do you want in return?" wondered the Slytherin.

"A little comfort of my own, I suppose. The chance to build a relationship, to help raise your lovely child – to do the ordinary things I have been too busy fighting to find time for."

"Do you suppose that you can atone for the mistakes you made when I was young by lavishing care and attention on my daughter?" Snape asked sharply, letting his mask slip enough to release a fraction of the stormy emotios which the old man's speech had stirred up.

"I can try," replied Dumbledore, looking directly into his eyes. They watched each other for a few minutes, both knowing the other well enough to be sure that legilimency was not an option, but trying to read as much as they could regardless. Albus cracked first. "Let me love you, my dear. For once in your life, allow someone to care about you."

Saskia awoke suddenly and exploded straight into an inexplicable fit of howling. Snape was hard-pressed not to join in. For a wild moment, he wished she were old enough to sensibly discuss their future, and he keenly felt the pressure of being forced to make a life-changing decision on someone else's behalf. How could he take such a responsibility?

"Severus, I am not expecting an answer right away," Albus said kindly. "I understand that this has come out of the blue and you need time to decide. Take as much time as you wish. Remember too, that it is not necessarily forever – if you agree then discover later that we are incompatible, we can reassess the situation. Will you promise me that you'll consider?"

Swinging Saskia gently on his hip to sooth her, Snape nodded and managed the ghost of a smile.

"I will, Albus. Thank you."

Encouraged by the small smile, Dumbledore decided to push his luck and ask for a kiss.

"Just to show that you are not offended," he twinkled hopefully.

"Offended?" echoed Snape, not understanding. The baby quietened down again and contented herself with whimpering loudly in her Papa's arms.

"Offended at being propositioned by a dippy old sock maker who was at school with your great-grandmother," he grinned. Snape almost laughed.

"Who also happens to be the most powerful wizard in the world," he added dryly.

Dumbledore shrugged, indicating that this was beside the point.

"Very well," Snape agreed, knowing that he was definitely blushing this time and hating the fact. The older wizard moved forward slowly, as though wary of upsetting a highly-strung and dangerous hippogriff and very softly pressed their lips together.

Whatever the younger man had expected, it was not this. The beard was neither itchy nor uncomfortable, as he had suspected when writing his list of potential fathers back in the beginning - it was rather pleasantly tickly. His breath was sweet and pepperminty and his lips were intriguingly soft. He felt one of Dumbledore's hands come up to stroke his beautiful hair, while Saskia wriggled slightly on his hip. It felt odd to have someone touching him like this, with such tenderness, such reverence; he was just beginning to enjoy the sensation when a harsh voice cut through their explorations like a bucket of iced water.

"What the HELL is going on here?"

Startled, the smoochers broke apart to see Lupin standing next to the fireplace, as he had never been seen before.

His body was rigid, with his hands clenched in fists at his sides and his shoulders slightly hunched as he leaned forward threateningly. The intense expression on his twitching face could only be described as 'feral', especially the way his top lip kept lifting of its own volition to display his upper left incisor. Snape did not remember Lupin's eyes as being quite so yellow before.

"Remus, dear boy, how nice to see you! I was just…" began Albus benignly.

"Get away from him!" snarled Lupin. Snape's and Dumbledore's faces fell in unison. They turned to stare at each other, confused.

"Are you unwell, Lupin?" asked the potions master sharply, unconsciously turning his body so that he was between Saskia and the angry werewolf.

"Shh…shut up!" Lupin muttered, shaking his head slightly and screwing his eyes closed, apparently not addressing the other men in the room.

"Remus?" asked Dumbledore, becoming concerned.

Of course, neither Dumbledore nor Snape could hear the voice inside Lupin's head which was screaming;

"_KILL! A-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"No!" shouted Lupin, his eyes still shut.

"_Mate is OURS! Cub is ours! Who does this old two-legger think he is? Rip his throat out! Kill!"_

"S…Sever-erus," Remus wavered, forcing himself to calm down as much as possible.

"Yes?" replied a mystified Snape, who was now taking no chances and clutching his wand.

"D…nnnn…do you h…have any wolfsbane sachets about the place?"

"_Bite him! Oh, Akela's whiskers, you are such a BETA, Human! That's our MATE!"_

"It is not yet full moon, Remus," reasoned Albus. "Why do you need wolfsbane?"

"I just do." Twitch. "I'd like some wolfsbane now, please."

"_Wait, is he talking about weak-poison?"_

"Yes he is!"

"Lupin? What's wrong with you?"

"_Don't you dare!"_

"Anything to keep you under control, you murderous beast!"

Realisation dawned on Snape and Dumbledore. Severus tightened his grip on his wand and Albus stepped away to put a good few yards between the two of them, having some idea that ancient protective forces were at work here.

"Is it the wolf, Remus?"

"Mm-hmm. He's objecting to…nnnnnn…I'm warning you! I'll do it! Weak-poison time!" he clenched his teeth as the internal struggle raged harder.

"_No! Who will defend cub?"_

"I will."

"_Hah! Human? Bloody bunny-rabbit, more like! Kill the interloper!"_

The next thing Remus knew, a foul-smelling goblet was being held under his nose and he grabbed it eagerly. Just one sip did the trick. The wolf retreated, leaving Remus exhausted but his human side in complete control, as it ought to be at that time of the month. He staggered to a chair and flopped into it, grimacing at the foul taste of the potion.

"Excuse me," he sighed. "I don't know what happened. I've only heard the wolf in my head once before and that was the night Saskia was conceived. I don't understand."

Snape bit his lip and glared at Albus, who took the hint and left with a final entreaty to seriously consider his offer.

"Lupin, I believe I know why the wolf has reacted this way on these two occasions," he released the pigtail spell and his glossy hair fell shimmering to his shoulders, inciting a gasp from Remus.

"Oh! It's so lovely! What…?"

"You have known about your homosexuality for a long time, correct?" he hazarded.

"Mmm. Huh? Oh, yes, since I was about fourteen, I think," Remus was openly gaping at the beauty of the Secret Weapon, paying minimal attention to what Severus was saying. Rolling his eyes, Snape got up and placed Saskia in his lap to distract him. It worked. "Hello, gorgeous!" he beamed at her.

"So. For your entire adult life, you have only been attracted to males?"

"Yes, that's right," confirmed Lupin.

Snape continued his hypothesis. Werewolves, he argued, like normal wolves, were interested in the sexual act as a means of reproduction, therefore the persons which Remus the human found desirable, were of no use to Remus the wolf. The exception to this rule, however, was Severus Snape, who fulfilled both criteria in being male but able to carry children.

"But I never found you attractive at school," puzzled Remus, then realising what he had said, his shoulders fell apologetically. "Sorry, I mean…"

"That is a _fact,_ Lupin, therefore not something which you should be sorry about," Snape fought hard not to roll his eyes again. "I was male and able to bear children, but because you were not attracted to me, nothing happened. The night Saskia was conceived, I had attended to my hair to render it desirable in order to seduce you. It would seem that when I did so, I was not only male and fertile, but also attractive in your eyes. The alignment of these three factors seduced you and your wolf good and proper."

Lupin stared at Saskia as he tried to process this new information. She kicked him in the ribs.

"But you didn't know all that at the time, did you?" he asked, after a moment's silence.

"No. I only guessed at what happened after your…ah…vigorous sexual performance which I felt was totally at odds with your usual polite and considerate behaviour," he allowed a small smirk to pull at one corner of his mouth.

"You…you said it was OK though," Remus looked up in concern.

"Very much more than 'OK', I assure you," he shot a sultry look at the werewolf, who visibly shivered, no less drawn to the power of the SW now that he understood it.

In need of more explanations than this, Remus turned the conversation to Snape's list and his reasons for choosing Remus. They summoned the infamous notebook once more to settle all of his questions and though Remus felt many of his friends and acquaintances had been dismissed rather harshly, he understood Snape's reasoning in most cases. Glancing once again at his own attributes, a phrase, which he had not noticed the first time, leaped off the page and made his heart skip a beat.

Snape knew from one look at his horrified expression exactly which part he had read.

"'Reason first baby died'?" Lupin blinked slowly, cuddling Saskia tight against him. "Severus?"

Well, Snape thought to himself, he would have found out eventually. It was time to come clean. Or clean-ish. As clean as the potions master was ever prepared to get, at any rate.

"Did I kill a baby?" Lupin's face had turned grey.

"The night Black sent me to the Shrieking Shack," Severus began, establishing from the outset whom he blamed most of all for the fiasco, if only to lessen the werewolf's inevitable feelings of guilt. "I was unaware that I was pregnant. The trauma of the experience caused me to miscarry. I am afraid I always held you and your friends responsible for that."

Saskia filled the otherwise painful silence with small baby-sounds and Snape found that, for some reason, he really needed to hold her. He got up and moved to take her from Lupin, but Lupin's hand shot out and grasped his elbow.

"You lost a baby, because of me?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"More because of Black. And Dumbledore's indulgence. But you played a part." It was a day for revelations. Another of his long-term fantasies involved telling the Marauders how their youthful prank had ended in murder, usually with them twitching at his feet under a hearty Cruciatus and being favoured with the elegant sneer he had learned from Lucius. Again he was disappointed. This grey-haired, well-meaning war veteran was suffering agonies since he found out, yet he discovered that not only could not gloat, he was even trying to make it easier on him. For a second, he tried equating this gentle man with the slavering hell-fiend he had encountered that awful night, and failed.

Lupin hauled on his elbow until he was forced to sit beside him in the same chair, then pulled him into a three-way hug, with Saskia sandwiched in the middle, his breath audibly catching as he fought tears.

"What did Dumbledore say? He never mentioned this to me," he quavered.

"He didn't know," Snape admitted.

"What! You were fifteen years old! What did you do? How did you cope?" Remus gave in and began to weep quietly.

"I was not without friends in Slytherin house," Snape explained, careful not to give away more than he intended. "I used my contacts to get hold of a private healer rather than have some National Healing Service do-gooder run straight to my father because I was underage. And I 'coped', as you put it, by becoming very angry. The enormity of the situation did not sink in until much later. I only began to grieve for the child in the course of my spying work at Malfoy Manor, when I spent time with little Draco and realised the significance of what I had lost.

"I was heartbroken for a time, but then the war ended, the world changed and I was busy every day. I never forgot about her though - a girl, apparently - and gradually I decided that if I had managed to conceive once, perhaps I could do so again. So when the Dark Lord vanished for good, I sat down and wrote my list."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin buried his face in Snape's shoulder and shook with grief. Saskia sensed that all was not well and began to whimper in sympathy. Both men turned to comfort her, eventually deciding that she was better off being kept away from all this flying emotion and asking Pip to put her to bed.

By the time the baby was settled, Remus had had chance to recover himself a little.

"I suppose it's far too late for apologies," he sniffed, unknowingly echoing Dumbledore's earlier statement. Snape sat with his fingers steepled in front of his face for a moment while he considered.

"That was in the past. You have given me Alexandra. My future," he said evenly. "If anything can absolve your culpability in the death of my first child, it is having provided me with my second."

The smile broke across Lupin's face like some poetic allegory of dawn.

"Yes, you're right. Oh, I'm so pleased!" His face quickly clouded over again as another thought occurred. "Though I suppose you think my friends got their comeuppance a long time ago? Indirectly, I mean."

More directly than you will ever know, thought Severus, not prepared to share certain memories with anyone.

He had never told Lucius the whole story about the circumstances of the miscarriage, having been forced into taking all manner of dangerous oaths concerning Lupin's little secret by an unforgiving Dumbledore, but the older boy knew for certain that the four Gryffindors, who had devoted their whole school careers to tormenting his lover, were guilty of murdering the (sadly illegitimate) Malfoy heir. Historically, murdering Malfoys was not something which could be got-away-with - relatives usually turned their grief into more productive emotions, so it was a well-established fact that anyone who succeeding in killing a member of the wealthy dynasty would regret it deeply for the immeasurably short remainder of their lives.

Lucius was a careful man. He was not about to go using Unforgivable curses on schoolboys underneath the nose of a wizard powerful enough to make even the Dark Lord tremble. Instead, he noted 'vengeance' down on his to-do list, and got on with his life, comforting Severus, developing ties with the Death Eaters, marrying Narcissa Black and begetting himself a legitimate heir.

Snape was in the room when the opportunity arose, several years after the terrible night. The Dark Lord was seated at his great mahogany desk, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, little rectangular glasses perched on the end of his nose as he pored over the papers detailing the possible candidates for the 'Chosen' baby featured in the prophecy which Snape had managed to overhear.

He asked for his faithful followers' advice. All present stood to attention as he revealed that there were two young couples matching the criteria for the birthing of his nemesis. Both families, he decided, must be destroyed; yet whilst they remained under the protection of the sweet-sucking Old Fool, it would take considerable effort to track them down. It may take months or even years to break their complicated protections. Prioritisation, he decreed, was the key.

"So, my friends," even sitting in this informal state, the force of the Dark Lord's charisma made Snape's diaphragm buzz, "Do we concentrate our deadly efforts on the Longbottom family, or on the Potters?"

"The Potters, My Lord," replied Lucius smoothly, without hesitation.

Even Malfoy had to admit that their revenge had an unfortunate side-effect. Yet - accidental demise of the Dark Lord or no - he had accomplished what he set out to do. Potter dead, Pettigrew dead (or so they thought), Black imprisoned for life and Lupin left alone to collapse under the weight of the awful situation. He tossed back his handsome head and nodded once to Severus.

"That, my dear, is what happens to those who mess with us!"

But it had all been too late. Leaving the Death Eaters and turning spy had changed Snape irrevocably and driven a wedge between him and the golden god who had captured his childhood heart. Love and admiration are two entirely separate emotions, he found. By then, he was still in love with Lucius, but simultaneously rather revolted by some of the acts he had seen his lover commit. By then, Dumbledore's wishes were more important than Lucius'. By then, there was no longer an 'us' to mess with.

Returning his thoughts to the present, he looked at Remus and wondered how different the wizarding world would be now, if Lucius had not influenced Voldemort's choice that night.

The amber-brown eyes were watching him, full of emotion.

"Knut for your thoughts," Remus offered mildly. Snape swallowed, almost painfully glad of his automatic occlumency. This was another piece of his past which he was not prepared to share with anyone. Ever.

"I doubt they are worth so much," he replied quietly.

Lupin smiled and took his hand.

"May I ask a question?" he asked. Severus nodded. "Why was Albus kissing you earlier?"

Snape explained and the werewolf grew indignant.

"I am Saskia's father!" he glowered. "I may not be as rich as him, but if you're looking for a live-in partner you should at least _consider_ me!"

One black eyebrow rose extremely slowly.

"Would you care to rephrase that statement, Lupin?" he asked icily. Remus stared for a moment, before having the effrontery to giggle.

"Oh gosh, Severus, I'm sorry!" he snickered into his hand like a child. "I'm a bit wrung-out after all this. What I meant to say was, that if you'll have me, I would like the three of us to live together. As a proper family. Will you allow me to court you?"

The words sounded ridiculously formal coming from Lupin, more so, in fact, than Dumbledore's entire prepared Victorian-style proposal speech.

"I confess that I am rather wrung-out myself," he sighed, passing a hand over his brow. "Thank you for your offer. I need to take time to think, about you and Albus both. With our daughter's future at stake, I do not feel myself in a position to act hastily. I…I hope that does not disappoint you."

"No," Remus shook his head. "I expected nothing less, from you."

Expressing a need for some air before returning home, Lupin decided to walk down the lane for a while before apparating, instead of taking the floo as usual. Fresh air sounded like a good idea to Snape, who strolled with him down the front path. Stopping when he reached the fence, he raised a hand in farewell to Lupin and leaned on the gatepost.

He felt as though he had lived a hundred lives in one afternoon. 'Wrung-out' did not come close to describing the emptiness in his brain since all the emotional developments had careered around it.

He remembered bitter feelings of hatred for both men in the past, both in their own ways being to blame for the ruination of his childhood and his decision to join the Death Eaters; now they were rivals for his affection. Actually, that was not strictly true - Snape did not doubt for a minute that neither would have looked at him twice, were it not for Saskia. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. He owed it to his little girl to make the right decision here.

The obvious choice was Albus, of course. Wealthy, powerful, influential and good with children, he would make a fine stepfather. Lupin was already bound to Saskia by blood, too, so choosing Dumbledore would ensure that three people would be around to raise and adore her, instead of two. But could Severus cope with his eccentricities on a daily basis? The sweets, the socks, the inane chit-chat, the pyromaniac familiar (if Fawkes ever deigned to return) were all very well once in a while, but he suspected that being confronted with them from dawn 'til dusk could do things to a person's sanity.

Then there was the matter of Lupin. Choosing him would make them a nuclear family, giving the baby the most stable upbringing of all. He was calm, neat, unobtrusive and closer to Severus' age, but the terrifying spectre of his lycanthropy lurked in the back of his mind whenever they were together. Snape had deliberately visited him in his wolfsbane-neutralised transformed state on two occasions, both of which had been for Alexandra's direct benefit, both of which had been absolutely bloody terrifying. Could he accept that his partner became a monster each month without becoming a nervous wreck?

Snape felt the need to make a list.

He turned towards the house and walked slowly through the front garden, appreciating the blue sky, if not the chill breeze, which reminded him that he was rather underdressed for being outdoors in March. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and was mentally mapping out his first few points when he opened the front door and noticed something odd.

Despite being keyed to admit certain trustworthy individuals, the magical wards on the house were so stringent that he normally felt them slither over him, verifying his identity and subtly acknowledging their maker, whenever he entered. Potter had been the only person to ever gain entry without permission, and even with all his auror's training, Pip had been alerted almost at once. Entering the house, he felt nothing at all.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as he mouthed Pip's name softly, as he had the previous night, and got no response. Raising his wand he strode into the hall and saw a small pair of feet lying on the floor at the very bottom of the stairs.

Pip was motionless, hopefully just stunned, but there was no time to find out as Saskia started screaming upstairs and Snape rocketed up and across the landing and to the nursery doorway where he froze in horror, terror, pain, shock, anger and a few thousand other forms of trauma. He could not move. He could not speak. He could not breathe.

He could only focus on the wand being held at his daughter's throat.

"Hello, Snivellus," said Peter Pettigrew.

…….

AN: Ooh! Sorry that took so long, I was struck down with a foul chest infection last week, but the good news is that I bought a laptop in the January sales so can now start writing _outside_ of office hours too! Yay. Well, it's too bloody cold to bother with a social life.

Ten points if you saw Albus' speech coming! Ten more points for identifying the two classics where I nicked 'fine eyes' and 'unfortunate brother' from. Dix points et un pain au chocolat if you get the significance of Bourdon Hall.

Yes, Severus is being economical with the truth, as usual. He has also conveniently overlooked his own role in the miscarriage. Remus needs to ask a few more questions, but he's a bit too dazed at the mo.

Couldn't resist having Malfoy as a bottle blonde, heh heh.


	15. Rat Bird Wolf

It really was a beautiful day. The birds were singing in the hedgerows as Remus strolled down Maltings Lane, lost in a thousand different thoughts since his life-changing conversation with Severus. The wolf made a single, feeble attempt to try and communicate something about the cub as he walked, but the wolfsbane in Remus' system made it very easy for the human to drown him out.

He had not realised how he felt about Snape until the moment he saw him being kissed by Albus. Over the months, the two fathers had grown close as they discussed parenthood, then they had doted on the baby with matching delight since the birth. Somewhere along the way, his feelings for Severus had obviously deepened into a bit more than a shared interest in Saskia and a shared history of pain across two wizarding wars. Now, he wanted to wrap his arms around the potions master and their child and never let go, protecting and loving them both no matter what.

The thought of physical intimacy with the darker man was a world away from his still-confused feelings for Harry. Harry was undeniably beautiful, young, fit and toned, yet he had been unable to do more than kiss him weeks ago, when the boy had practically offered himself on a platter. Remus began to suspect that he considered himself not good enough for Harry, preferring to put him on a pedestal and just admire, rather than share real sexual experience. Given recent developments, it seemed likely.

Severus had never been much to look at, and was even less attractive since his weight gain and hormonal imbalances, but the sarcastic tongue and penetrating glares easily transmuted inside Lupin's mind into fantasies of delicious depravity. He imagined slowly removing those many layers of black robes and exploring what lay beneath. Admittedly, he had seen most of what lay beneath at Saskia's birth, though that day, eroticism had been the very last thing on his mind. Besides, sex involved all six senses, not just sight. He wondered how Severus would feel under his roaming hands, how he would smell, taste, what sounds he could be encouraged to make. The details of their previous time together were hazy, probably from a combination of alcohol and the dominant behaviour of the wolf. He found he was longing to remind himself.

Remus licked his lips and swallowed, suddenly rather hot under the collar.

He was probably a lot more experienced than Harry, too, the werewolf mused. This salacious thought led Remus to realise that he had not asked about the father of the child who died. He frowned as he tried to remember seeing Severus with a lover. Racking his brains about their school contemporaries failed to produce a single candidate. Neither could he recall having ever seen the Slytherin with anyone who could have been described as a friend. He scratched his chin in wonderment.

Perhaps the father had not been a student at Hogwarts. Could it be an acquaintance from Snape's home town in Yorkshire? Or someone in Hogsmeade? A nasty idea slunk into his consciousness concerning the scene he had just witnessed between Snape and Dumbledore and he stopped dead in the middle of the road.

Shy and awkward children with few friends whose parents were inattentive could be vulnerable to abuse, Lupin knew. It would make a twisted kind of sense. Having a teenage affair with your elderly headmaster was a sure-fire way of hurting yourself and ending up serving the dark wizard who opposed him, out of heartbroken spite. It would also explain Dumbledore's jubilation when he returned to the fold, and his borderline obsessive need to trust the young spy when practically every member of the Light forces hated him.

Was it possible? Remus clawed up as many memories of the old man as he could. Most of them were either of a charming centenarian babbling about socks, or of a stern military commander, nurturing loyalty from his troops with intelligent speeches. Perhaps a Slytherin would hold a different view. Even as a teenager, Lupin had seen plenty of examples of the dreadful bias Dumbledore harboured against the serpent house. Despite this weakness, he had never heard even a ghost of a rumour of any inappropriate behaviour, though he had to concede that a man so startlingly clever would hardly leave the evidence lying around. Evidence, he gulped, such as a baby Dumbledore-Snape. Had Albus orchestrated...?

Remus screwed his eyes shut, refusing to entertain any more of these dreadful, unfounded ideas. He had obviously been spending too much time with Severus 'twisted and suspicious' Snape. He decided to simply ask next time he visited, instead of jumping to disturbing conclusions.

He resumed walking, though the Spring afternoon seemed a little less delightful now than it had done before. Yet again his brain replayed the startling sight of his mate being kissed by someone else and Remus decided that it simply would not do. He had not realised when making his offer just how strongly he wanted Severus. Squaring his shoulders in preparation for the tug-of-war which lay ahead, he took a focussing breath and disapparated.

…….

Back at the house, Snape was having more trouble focussing.

Wormtail was clutching Saskia at an odd angle, almost tucked under his chin with his elbow sticking out in front, his wand jabbing firmly into her neck. Her head lolled backwards and she was screaming like a banshee, her face vivid red and her little limbs flailing. It was more than Snape could stand.

"Pettigrew! Give her to me!" he begged, reaching out to take her. As a Death Eater, he had always wondered why a hostage's loved ones always asked for what they were not going to get. Cries of 'let him go' or 'don't hurt her' had always rather amused him, as if any genuine kidnapper or assassin would consider their request and say, 'Oh, Ok then. Bye!' But now he understood. It was probably the karmic idea of what goes around, comes around, that he was the victim now, pathetically asking for the impossible in a kind of desperate hope that it was some kind of joke and everything would be all right.

"Stay where you are, Snape!" hissed Wormtail, taking a step backwards. "And give me your wand!"

Severus hesitated for a second, before the distressed yells of his daughter reminded him that he was in no position to fight. Unfortunately. He put his wand on the floor and kicked it towards the odious little man in front of him, with the grim feeling that he had just lost his last chance. Pettigrew was more powerful than most people realised, but he was still no match for Snape in a duel. Not that any kind of spellcasting was possible with Saskia in the line of fire. He felt cold sweat forming in the pores on his body and scalp. Unable to stand up to such stress, he sensed the Secret Weapon being overwhelmed by his natural grease.

"Support her head, at least. Please, Pettigrew!" he wrung his hands hopelessly, pain shooting through every nerve of his body with each of the baby's cries. He was helpless. He had failed to protect her. This was all his fault.

"I can't," snarled Wormtail, looking angry for the first time. A particularly sharp scream from Saskia made him wince and cast 'silencio' on her. She stopped crying in shock at being no longer able to make a sound. Then continued in eerie silence, growing redder and redder in her frustration.

It was too much for Snape to bear. The sight of his tiny daughter, upset, in deadly danger, probably in pain and now stifled at the whim of this murderer pushed him through Despair, through Fear, through Horror and through Panic, into the calm place on the other side. Suddenly his wits were razor sharp. Every sense became hyper-alert and each one of his considerable resources was at his disposal to engage in the battle for his baby.

He stopped asking stupid questions.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "You know that I will do anything to ensure Saskia's safety. Tell me what you want and I shall get it." Pettigrew smiled his ratty smile, pleased to see the rational, scientific wizard reassert himself. He looked down at the child screaming silently in his awkward grip.

"She looks like Moony," he commented nasally. "Just as well for her, I suppose!"

"I have never seen Lupin looking…like that," he managed to keep the grief out of his voice as he indicated the tormented expression on the tiny features.

"Oh, I don't know," he mused. "You weren't there the time Sirius transfigured his five thousand word NEWT arithmancy essay into a pork pie and James accidentally ate it. He looked almost exactly like this."

Snape wondered how he could so casually refer to the people he had destroyed. He always felt faintly uncomfortable when discussing the former associates whom he had betrayed, even the psychotic ones, like Bellatrix. Not that he ever showed it, of course. Even Dumbledore's benevolence had its limits.

Here they stood, two traitors from opposing sides, relics from a war which was fading into history. Foes from day one, each making their different choices then recanting them. Twenty-five years ago it would have been impossible to imagine that the jolly, popular Gryffindor boy would be the dangerous fugitive and the spiteful Slytherin loner would have a family and circle of dear friends. All results of the decisions they made as teenagers.

Snape reflected that a little help from those friends would be really useful at the moment. He cursed his impetuosity in not ennervating the unconscious Pip in the hallway and sending her to alert someone. He wondered if a sense of the baby's danger could provoke her powerful elven magic into overcoming whatever spell Pettigrew had cast.

"What did you do to my elf?" he demanded sternly, trying not to look closely at the miserable child.

"Oh, not a lot. It was very accommodating actually. It brought me safely inside the house. I have to compliment you on your wards, incidentally, Snivellus, I've been trying to get in for days without alerting you!" he sniggered in a cruel, sneering way which would have looked imposing on Severus, but just looked ugly on him. Severus grimly remembered waking with the impression that something was wrong the previous night, but only finding Lupin in the study. The rat must have caused a slight disruption to the wards.

"What do you mean, Pip brought you in?" concern fractured the calm façade for a second at the thought of the dear little creature in league with this monster.

Pettigrew adopted a whiny voice to mock the elf.

"Oh, poor little ratty with only three legs, be coming inside and having a snacky-wacky, Master will not be minding," he finished his play-acting with a derisive snort. "Once I became human again and stunned it, the wards tried to attack me, but it's much easier to disable them from inside."

Snape cursed himself for not making it clearer to Pip to be suspicious of rats near the house, especially ones with silver paws. It was utterly shaming that he had never seriously considered the possibility of something like this happening. He stared at the odd way the animagus was holding Saskia and realised for the first time that the legendary magical silver arm was missing.

"Your hand!" he exclaimed, wondering why it had taken him so long to notice. "What happened?" Wormtail shifted self-consciously and snorted.

"Vanished into thin air," he sighed resentfully. "The moment Harry killed…_Him_…it just disappeared. That's why I'm here. It's all very well being a one-handed wizard, 'cause you can use your wand; but I have to spent most of my time transformed, and being a three-legged rat is really, really lousy. I can only be human when I'm alone." A shadow passed across his face and he looked Snape in the eye with a haunted expression. "I don't like being alone. I'd rather be a kid's pet rat, or run with the wild rats than be alone. I can't be alone."

"I cannot provide you with a new hand, Pettigrew," said Snape slowly, worried about the other man's increasingly emotional state. Relaxed was preferable. Relaxed was _predictable._ "Skele-gro will provide new bones, but the flesh…"

"The flesh was 'willingly given'," he quoted miserably, as though he deeply regretted the shameful night of Voldemort's rebirth. "I know it can never come back. But there's a potion. I've heard about it in Ame…in the place where I've been hiding. You take a muggle prosthetic limb and attach it the muggle way, then you take the potion and it becomes part of you! Well, almost. It's not exactly the same, but it's much better than the dead plastic was before."

Snape raised an eyebrow. He was talking about Part-of-Me Potion™. According to the journals, it was in the experimental stages at one of the commercial labs in Florida, but so far it had only been tested on…he smirked as the realisation dawned…the stuff had been tested on rats.

"Did your rodent chums tell you about this?" he asked snidely. With no sense of shame, Wormtail nodded.

"Word gets around," he shrugged. "Now you are going to brew me some. I have some of the calculations here," he indicated a piece of parchment on the nursery table which Snape had not noticed. "Then, when it's all done I can give you your baby back and we can all live happily ever after." His leering gaze swept properly over his opponent for the first time. "Nice tits, by the way."

Ignoring the last comment, Snape swallowed discreetly and weighed up his options. He realised that he would need help to get himself and Alexandra out of this situation unharmed, which meant somehow contacting other people. He looked over the list of ingredients and began a benign discussion with Pettigrew over the availability of the various substances and the time required to brew an experimental potion, as a cover while he acted on his plan.

The stream of pointless complaints fell effortlessly from his naturally objectionable lips, while he used the greater part of his consciousness to clear his head. The scene in the nursery faded into the background, though his own voice droned on scornfully as before. Little effort was required to sink deeper and deeper into the well of his mind, thanks to his well-rehearsed Occlumency techniques; but this time, instead of visualising himself as a tight sphere, indestructible and resistant to all external attempts at penetration, he concentrated on the sacred and indelible link between Occlumency Master and Apprentice.

He grasped at the long-buried echo of the sensation of Dumbledore reaching inside his mind during his lessons before becoming a spy. The two men who had gained access to his thoughts had been opposites in many ways – their approaches to Legilimency had been no exception. The Dark Lord had seared his brain with what felt like white-hot splinters, gouging at whatever emotions they could find and leaving him with the violated sensation of being bruised inside for days afterwards. Albus' teaching had been much gentler, rather like the tentacles of a drowsy octopus feeling around for something to tug loose and remove.

He focussed as hard as he could on the peculiar memories of the old man's exploration, then turned all of his magical energy towards it.

_Albus?_

…….

"Harry, come on! We're already late, Fergus'll do his nut!" Oliver yelled through the half-open changing-room door. "What are you doing?"

Harry hoisted his kitbag over a shoulder and opened his mouth to throw a witty comment back at his on-off lover when he suddenly doubled over, clutching at his ears.

"H? Are you OK?" he dashed inside, where the Seeker had dropped to the ground, groaning.

Large, horrified green eyes met his.

"Ol," he gasped. "It finally happened! I'm going mad! I've started hearing voices!"

…….

Snape's mind's eye rolled despairingly.

He had forgotten that a third powerful wizard had been trampling around inside his head in the past. During the horrendous months when he had tried to teach the little ingrate, Potter's invasion had felt like the muggles' animated (and anatomically inaccurate) interpretation of a Tasmanian devil, flailing about making undignified noises as he messed up Snape's delicately-balanced internal filing systems.

_Sod off, Potter!_

…….

"Huh?" gaped Harry.

"Shall I call someone?" asked Oliver, kneeling on the floor next to him, not sure what he ought to be doing.

"N…no. I'm not ready for St Mungo's closed ward yet," he shut his eyes and tried to listen to what was being said. In a way, it was more terrifying than his visions of Voldemort. At least he had known where they came from. This was a totally new form of attack.

"What are they saying?" Oliver wondered, tentatively stroking Harry's back to try and sooth him.

_Will you get out of the way, Potter! I am attempting to contact Dumbledore!_

"Snape?" Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Snape?" echoed Oliver, looking fearfully over his shoulder. "Where?"

_Yes, yes, congratulations on recognising the voice of someone you have known for more than ten years. Now close your addled cerebellum so I can call for some real help!_

The famous Gryffindor heroism recognised a distress call when it heard one. Closing his eyes and drifting inside his mind, Harry imagined he was in a Divination lesson and tuned out the external world.

_What's wrong, Snape? Is Remus in trouble?_

_Well, I suppose in Albus' absence you will suffice, Potter. Saving lives is your 'thing', after all._ The word 'thing' dripped with molten sarcasm. _Pay attention. Pettigrew is here, in my house. He is holding my baby hostage and seems rather desperate. Inform Albus and Tonks. And Remus,_ he added as an afterthought. The wolf might surface again on seeing its cub threatened, which could be useful.

_Bloody hell! Really?_

_No, April Fool._

_Snape, it's not April Fool's Day yet._

_A fact of which I am perfectly aware. Cretin._

_So it's true, then?_

_Yes it is. I will beg you, if I must. Please help us. He is…he is hurting my daughter. Please, Potter._

The sound of the evil old git pleading with him almost knocked Harry over, but it made him realise the urgency of the situation. Without another thought, he disapparated away.

Oliver was still kneeling on the changing-room floor, alone now and more confused than he had ever been in his life, when Coach Alexson flung open the door and began yelling.

"Wood! We're waiting for you, what are you doing? Get your tartan-clad Scotch arse to my office right now! Where's Mr Showbiz?" He searched the room for signs of Harry.

"He had to go," the Keeper got slowly to his feet.

"Go! Go where! What in the name of Merlin's giblets could be more important than my strategy meeting?" bellowed the Coach. Oliver shrugged his shoulders with resignation.

"I think he had to save the world again," he sighed.

…….

Not trusting Potter to organise an efficient rescue without falling over his own feet, Severus summoned all his mental strength and made one last attempt to call Albus.

He received a response this time which - thankfully - sounded nothing like Potter, but nothing like Albus either. It was an indistinct sort of musical chirp which made him wonder if Pip had regained consciousness on her own. That possibility cheered him infinitely more than having successfully got through to the brat.

Returning to the auto-pilot conversation which he had been holding with Pettigrew throughout these Occlumentic distress calls, the animagus was brushing aside all his pertinent comments about the availability of the potion ingredients.

"I knew it would be hard for you to get hold of these things quickly, so I brought most of them with me," he said, readjusting the still-wriggling baby in the grip of his damaged arm. "So let's get on, shall we? I think you've done enough stalling. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can give you your sprog back and I can leave."

"My laboratory is in the basement," said Snape smoothly. He gestured towards the door. "After you."

"Ha!" Wormtail gave an unpleasant snort. "I know you have a very low opinion of me, Snivellus, but I'm not stupid. You first. And I warn you, try any funny business with your potions equipment and I _will_ hurt the kid, I can promise you that. Have you ever seen a baby under Cruciatus?"

Snape felt his heart and major arteries all turn to ice. He nodded.

"Well then, you know how easily they can just…burst," he snorted again. "Behave yourself, Snape."

The dark man agreed meekly and led the way downstairs, wondering why the hell Potter was taking so long.

…….

Half of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement appeared to be in Snape's garden, all under standard obscuring charms to make themselves invisible to onlookers, but not to each other.

Harry was pleased with how quickly he fell back into the routines learned during auror training. Tonks had taken personal charge of the operation, which was an indication of how very seriously the Ministry was taking the situation. She carefully briefed everyone about the very real danger posed to each and every citizen by the proximity of the last free Death Eater to some of the world's deadliest substances.

"Remus, have you any idea what he keeps in that lab?" she turned to the werewolf, who was looking a little absent. "Remus?"

Harry poked him.

"Uh?" Lupin was desperately trying to get in touch with his inner wolf in the hope that its extra senses would be of use, but the sip of wolfsbane he had taken earlier was making it difficult. "Oh. No idea. I'm not allowed in. He hasn't done much brewing since he became pregnant, but I suppose a lot of the ingredients are dried or spelled and will keep for years. Sorry."

"No matter. Right, I want bubble head charms on everyone entering the house. If we are reduced to a stand-off situation I want no heroics," she glared pointedly at Harry and Remus, then a brightly-coloured figure hovering at the edge of the driveway caught her eye. "Skeeter! What are you doing here? Clear off!"

"I heard there was trouble, wondered if I could be of assistance," Rita smiled like a crocodile, brand new flameproof Quick Quotes Quill poised for action. "Do you regret that the Ministry's inability to catch Peter Pettigrew has put the life of a tiny child in danger? Such a special baby, too. The first legally reported offspring of a male pregnancy. Does that add to the pressure to succeed, Chief Auror?"

Tonks turned back to her troops with a growl. She jerked a thumb towards the journalist, who was stealthily inching her way towards the action.

"If I find out that one of my team tipped off the Prophet, there will be _trouble_. As is stands, there's nothing we can do now, but do this by the book. Our every move is under surveillance here. Be careful and listen to your orders. Now move!"

One of their first tasks was reviving Pip, who immediately began to blame herself for the whole dreadful mess.

"Please, Pip," Remus begged as he tried to stop her from breaking her own fingers in mortification. He felt like doing the same for leaving Snape and Saskia exposed to such danger. "No need to punish yourself. Just help us find them!"

She immediately closed her eyes and concentrated, rising slightly off the floor as she performed the magical search.

"Basement labottery" she flattened her ears back against her head and raised her hands, the claws visibly growing longer and sharper. "Bad, bad, bad rat-man be hurting little Mistress!"

Tonks communicated this to the rest of the MLE and joined Albus, Harry, Neville and Remus in following the elf to the lab. Pip moved fast, taking huge strides with an intensity of purpose which made her look like a miniature manticore.

She flicked a hand almost nonchalantly and the very solid door blasted inwards.

It was a sight which would haunt Remus' nightmares for the rest of his life. Snape was standing over a bubbling cauldron, pale and anxious, while Wormtail clutched a very upset Saskia to his chest. The animagus started as they appeared but recovered quickly.

"Get back! All of you!" he threatened. He jabbed the wand in the baby's red and swollen face and Severus and Remus winced in unison. "I'll hurt her. I promise you it won't be pleasant to watch."

Involuntarily, Snape gave a little moan of grief. Remus stiffened and Harry and Neville each reflexively grabbed one of his arms to restrain him from doing anything silly.

Albus lowered his wand but did not put it away. He had never looked less barmy, less old or less like a codger in his life. His electric-blue eyes seemed to flash as they swept the room.

"Peter, my boy, there is no need for any of that," he spoke directly to Pettigrew in a tone that was like honey-glazed barbed wire. "We can talk about anything you want. Just give Saskia to us and then we can all sit down for a chat."

"Ha!" Pettigrew gave another one of his nasal snorts. "Do you think I'm insane?"

"Have me instead!" shouted Lupin, as a possible way out suggested itself. "You need a hostage for negotiation, use me! I'll do whatever you tell me. But give her to Severus, can't you see she's hurting herself like that!"

"Remus, no!" hissed Harry, but the werewolf wasn't listening. He made a show of handing his wand to Tonks and rolling up his sleeves to show that nothing was concealed as he stepped forward.

Snape whined again and reached automatically towards his daughter, his black eyes looking enormous in his drawn white face. Even Harry felt a pang of sympathy at the sight. Pettigrew would not be moved and held Saskia away from both fathers.

"Get back, Lupin! I'm not falling for your stupid tricks. There is no need for you lot to interfere. Snape is brewing me a little potion, which won't take long. Once I have taken it, I will give back the baby and never return. So get out while he finishes! Go on, scram!" He poked his wand into Saskia's face harder than before.

Then three things happened.

Firstly, everyone took a horrified step backwards at this renewed threat.

Then, Saskia stopped her terrible silent bawling and composed her face into an expression of extreme concentration. She closed her eyes, gave a little exclamation of surprise and turned into a fluffy, dark brown wolf cub. Taken by surprise, Pettigrew lost his lopsided grip and she slipped sideways. Overtaken by a kind of superhuman paternal power, Snape dived forward as though Seeking a World Cup Final snitch and caught her before she hit the floor, rolling them both to safety underneath a workbench.

Lastly, a burst of blinding golden light from out of nowhere forced everyone to cover their eyes. Pettigrew screamed once, then all was silent.

Blinking, the wizards stared at the place where Wormtail had been standing. Then looked down. He was now lying on the floor, with fiery orange manacles pinning him to the flagstones by one wrist, one elbow and both ankles, and perched triumphantly on his chest was…

"Fawkes!" cried Albus joyously. The phoenix threw his head back and trilled a tuneful greeting, before flapping up to the old man's shoulder and nuzzling his temple.

Lupin shot under the table where Severus and their cub had taken refuge and pulled them both against him, holding on for dear life. After a moment, he realised that he was crying with relief. Snape was oblivious to everything but his furry daughter. Visibly shaking, he muttered incoherent streams of apology and comfort as he stroked her all over, from the tip of her pink nose to the tiny toes on each soft paw. Her heart was beating a crazy rhythm after the stress of the prolonged trauma, but she snuggled in his familiar embrace and lapped at his fingers with her small pink tongue. When he still refused to pay attention to anything or anyone else after ten minutes, Albus suggested that Remus should take his family upstairs.

"I think dear Severus may be suffering from shock," he whispered quietly. "Put them both to bed and the aurors can take a statement later."

With a little help from Pip, who needed distraction from her repeated attempts to do violence to Pettigrew and to herself, Remus manoeuvred them out of the cold laboratory, where Neville was attending to the cauldron with all the skill of a professional potions master. Tonks was simultaneously trying to stop Harry from hexing Wormtail, preventing Rita Skeeter from rummaging in the cupboard marked 'Poisons' and begging Fawkes to release the bonds so they could arrest him.

"I'm so glad you're back, my pet," Albus beamed at the phoenix. "How did you know Severus was in trouble?"

Fawkes chirruped and pecked gently at the side of his head.

"Occlumency? Really?" asked Dumbledore. "I didn't hear a thing! It must have been while I was listening to the Howlin' Bloodcurse Thrashers' new album. Oh, dear. I rather let them down, didn't I?" The phoenix gave an admonitory squawk and tugged on his sleeve. "What is it? You want me to come with you? Very well."

After contacting Molly to ask her to come and take care of the family, Albus allowed his familiar to carry him to a secluded spot in the densest, most impenetrable part of the forest to the west of Hogsmeade. The trees grew so thickly that the sky was barely visible once they had landed, and Albus was forced to transfigure his slippers into a pair of extremely stout yellow walking boots to avoid the snapping jaws of the more hostile ground-level flora.

Fawkes fluttered up to a wide branch halfway up a gnarly old oak, where a ball of purple flame was flickering merrily by itself. He beckoned with his head. Albus lifted his robes like a lady preparing to dance at a ball and crunched his way through the undergrowth.

"Is this where you were hiding? What have you been doing out here? I've been so worried…oh!" Peering inside the magical blaze, Dumbledore spotted a smooth, golden ovoid speckled with scarlet spots.

He turned to the bird in amazement.

"You laid an egg!"

Fawkes trilled smugly. Stepping into the burning nest, he lovingly turned the egg over to make sure it was heating evenly and fussed around with the flames until they were arranged to his satisfaction.

Albus laughed in delight. Everything made sense now! The increased aggression which had made Fawkes so anti-social before his disappearance must have been a result of a hormonal urge to reproduce. Phoenixes were such rare and secretive creatures, not much had been written about their breeding habits, but the ancient Greeks had believed that mating season occurred once every three hundred and sixty-six years. The population was understandably small. Another thought occurred to Albus.

"So it's not just male potions masters who can have babies?" he teased.

Fawkes glared.

…….

Exhausted by their ordeal, Severus and Saskia fell asleep soon after being installed in the big four-poster. Molly and Remus had moved the crib out of the nursery and replaced it next to the bed, where it had been for the first two days of the baby's life. Despite this concession to security, both Papa and daughter whimpered with such obvious distress at the attempts that were made to part them, Remus could not bear to do it.

"Babies should _never_ sleep in their parents' beds," chided Molly, after he suggested they just give up.

"I know, but she's more of a cub than a baby at the moment," Lupin reasoned. "I think it would do more harm than good to force them apart."

"You never told me she was a natural animagus," Molly whispered accusingly.

"I didn't know," he admitted, gently petting the top of her fluffy head.

He gazed fondly at the miniature wolf. He felt that Saskia's condition somehow brought them closer together. Snape would always have the intimate bond of having nurtured her inside his body for nine months, but the experience of shifting shapes would be something which only Lupin and Alexandra could share.

After making sure everyone was settled and comfortable, Molly kissed Remus on the cheek and left.

"It wasn't your fault, Remus," she reassured him on her way out.

He turned back to the bed where his mate and cub lay peacefully, wishing he could believe it. The wolf had been trying to warn him that they were in danger and the human had ignored him. The first duty of any parent, above all others, was to protect their young, and today he had failed spectacularly. It was only thanks to Harry and Fawkes that Pettigrew had been overcome. He shuddered at the thought of his little girl in the clutches of the monster who had destroyed the lives of so many people Remus loved.

He could hear Pip and some of the aurors moving around downstairs, tying up loose ends and resetting the wards on the house. It was not enough. Remus needed to make sure his family were completely safe after the terror of the afternoon. Throwing the strongest spells he could think of on the fireplace, door and window, he lay down next to Severus, wand at the ready.

It was still not enough. He draped his wand arm over the potions master's stomach, angled so that his fingers were lightly brushing Saskia's fur. Snape hummed in his sleep and snuggled back against the secure warm presence. Saskia turned her head and sucked on the tip of her Daddy's thumb.

Finally satisfied that all was as it should be, Lupin buried his nose in Snape's greasy hair and cried himself to sleep.

…….

AN: I know I've been messing around with some ancient myths here, but as the whole story is based on messing with nature, I didn't think it would matter! The way I see it, the World's small phoenix population constantly reboot themselves by burning and growing again, though occasionally one will be killed outright. Every 366 years, mating season happens and some – but not all - will get it on and reproduce. As there are so few firebirds, males can lay eggs too. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it!

Duj – thanks for pointing out that bit of plot which I would not have noticed! I hope I wiggled out of it convincingly enough. It takes a lot of effort to activate the Secret Weapon, but not much to re-activate the slime. Such is life. Cackle.

Thanks to everyone for their flattering reviews! I look forward to hearing what you think of this chapter, too! Lots of love, SN x


	16. Chosen

Severus awoke when Saskia changed back into a human baby.

He checked her all over for side-effects, but she seemed to have managed the transformation perfectly, not even leaving wolf hairs in her sleep suit. She began nuzzling at his chest and he realised why she had decided to change back.

"Hungry, are we, my treasure?" he whispered. "Well, I'm glad you are not still a cub for this."

He had been so absorbed in his daughter that he failed to notice Lupin sprawling all over them, wand in his hand, until the werewolf stirred and spoke.

"All right?" he asked sleepily, eyelids glued together from too much many tears of relief.

"Dinnertime," Snape explained softly. Remus forced his eyes open and sat up to inspect Saskia.

"She's back to normal!" he exclaimed, staring at the suckling child. "Is she OK?"

"There appears to be nothing wrong with her physical appearance or appetite," he murmured fondly. "Lupin?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Stop staring at my tits."

"Sorry. I like them," he blushed fiercely, but the statement had a defiant edge this time.

Snape looked up at him calculatingly, remembering his conversations with Lupin and Dumbledore before Pettigrew's terrible arrival. He had forgotten that he was supposed to be choosing one of them as a lover.

"Do you, indeed?" he asked in the dangerous silky voice, the memory of which still had generations of ex-Hogwarts students waking at 3am in a cold sweat. "Would that fact explain your presence in my bed?"

Remus was threatening to turn into a beetroot, as far as Snape could tell in the flickering firelight, though he made no attempt to withdraw the arm still loosely draped across the darker man's midriff.

"Partly that. Partly because I want to protect you both. This afternoon was…" he struggled to find the right words to describe his horror at hearing Harry's call to action and the shame at having let down the people he loved. He swallowed. "You were in a dreadful state earlier. I needed to take care of you. How are you doing now?"

Severus pondered the question for a moment, shifting Saskia's position slightly in his arms. She was making her usual small sounds of appreciation. Apparently unable to help himself, Lupin's eyes returned to the exposed white breasts.

"I used to have a recurring dream," said Snape, resigning himself to being ogled. "Where I could no longer look after Saskia once she had hatched from the egg where I had kept her secure. It felt like that. How can I keep her safe without watching her every second of the day? I only went into the garden for a moment!"

Tightening his grip around the slightly flabby waist, Lupin rested his head on a shoulder.

"I don't know, Severus," he confessed. "No one is ever completely safe from harm. But it must be easier with two parents on the case."

Tired and emotional though he was, there was no way Snape could miss the implication of the statement. He tugged at his hair and recognised its usual oily texture. It was odd that Lupin was so keen to fondle him without the Secret Weapon working its magic.

"You still want me now? Fat, greasy, spotty with no attractive features and nothing to recommend me to anyone?" he sneered the question, preparing to raise his faithful old defensive barriers. Remus scratched his chin as he pretended to think it over.

"You're not so bad," he grinned, sweeping his eyes appraisingly up and down with a glint of lewdness which made Snape squirm.

"You realise that once I stop feeding Saskia myself, the breasts will likely disappear?" It sounded so much like an excuse that Lupin laughed out loud.

"Always so self-effacing," he smiled and brushed a stray strand of greasy black hair out of Snape's eyes. "I like all of you, not just your chest."

Processing that statement required more energy than Severus possessed at that moment. He felt awkward and embarrassed, not knowing what to believe or how to respond.

"Go to sleep," he commanded eventually, moving the baby to his other shoulder to burp her. Remus laughed again and kissed his cheek, then Saskia's.

"If that's what you want, my love," he whispered. Snape shivered, though the room was not cold.

…….

A few hours later, Remus awoke again to find his daughter engrossed in yet another feed and Severus writing in a leather notebook, precariously balanced on his knee.

"What are you doing?" he asked sleepily.

"Nothing," said Snape, too quickly, shoving the book underneath the blanket. Lupin's hand shot down after it, knowing that the potions master could not put up a proper fight without disturbing the Saskia's supper. "Give that back!" he hissed.

Remus ignored him and flipped to the last entry. The page was divided into two columns, one headed 'Lupin' and the other 'Dumbledore', reminding him he had no right to get too comfortable in the other man's bed.

"So my future depends on your latest list, does it?" he asked sharply. Snape had the grace to look faintly ashamed.

"It is a significant decision. I must make certain that I have considered all the facts…"

"Don't you ever just follow you heart?" Lupin asked incredulously.

Black eyes stared at him as though he had gone insane.

"No," said Snape. "I understand that your grasp of biology is basic, at best, but even you ought to be aware of which organ is responsible for thought." Remus tutted at the typical Snapish response. Looking at the list, which was just a few lines long and irritatingly practical in tone, his earlier suspicions suddenly resurfaced.

"Did Albus father your first baby?" he blurted out before he had chance to sugar-coat the delicate question.

"What? WHAT!" yelled Severus, his jaw falling open in shock. Saskia moaned at the loud noise and he calmed down and stroked her head in apology. "What on _earth_ gave you that idea?"

"Did he?" he repeated, quieter this time but no less insistent.

"No! Of course not!"

"Then who was it?" Lupin hated himself for putting the other wizard on the spot like this. He could not help it. He had to know.

Snape tried not to panic. He had put the werewolf through a lot over the last few days, having to deal with being used, deceived and lied to. He had no wish to add another untruth to the brew, but if Lupin found out now that Saskia's middle name was honouring his dead ex-lover who had been executed for a plethora of evil crimes against innocent people, it might just make him decide that Snape was more trouble than he was worth. Options flitted through his brain. He could say that he did not know who the other father had been, though that would make him sound like a slut. He could say he had been drunk at the time, which was not much better. He could imply that it had been a non-consensual encounter and the anonymous swine had obliviated him afterwards, but Lupin's probable grief on his behalf would make him uncomfortable.

Saskia picked up on his distress and started wailing. He rocked her gently as he realised that for the first time in years, he had no idea how to get himself out of an awkward situation. He started violently when Remus' hand gripped his shoulder.

"It's all right, Severus," his face was soft with concern. "I didn't mean to upset you. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

Allowing himself to be hugged again, Snape heard his own voice apologising.

"It…it's complicated," he stammered.

"Shh," soothed Lupin. "Don't worry. Doesn't matter." He was confused by Snape's obvious panic at being asked that straightforward question and filed it away for personal reflection later. What circumstances could have led the cool and aloof man to react that way? If it was not Dumbledore, then it must have been someone truly terrible. Someone like…

If Remus had hated having the idea of Dumbledore abusing the young Severus, the suspicion of Voldemort doing so made his blood boil.

Hit bit his lip to regain an element of control and watched Snape relax. Saskia calmed down too, allowing him to tentatively lay her down in the crib, though he looked anxious as he tucked her in. Lupin listened contentedly as he sang an unfamiliar lullaby, probably trying to soothe himself as much as the baby.

Flicking through the list book, Remus noted the many difficult decisions the potions master had been forced to make over the years, realising that he had been made to debate enormous issues on his own with no support from friends. Hence the book of lists. No wonder he had sometimes made mistakes. Remus had grown up bouncing ideas off his mother, then Sirius, James and, he grimaced, Peter, then Harry and his other friends of Harry's generation. Snape had no one whom he could trust on important matters. The thought was rather upsetting.

He glanced over at the crib, where Severus was still crooning quietly to their daughter with such great love that Lupin felt privileged just being able to watch him. It was a complete contrast to the bitter demeanour he had presented before the end of the war. He had buried most of his grudges while preparing to have Saskia, and Remus knew that he was more concerned with the future than the past nowadays.

Severus had been burdened with too many painful choices throughout his short life. Perhaps it was time he learned to rely on others. Perhaps he needed someone else to give him the final push away from his old solitary habit and take matters out of his worn hands. Who better to undertake the task than the one he had personally chosen as the best man to father his daughter?

Taking a deep breath with determination, Remus made the decision on Severus' behalf.

He got up from the bed, strolled to the fireplace and tossed the book into the flames.

"Lupin!" shrieked Snape, diving to retrieve it. "What are you doing!" Remus gently restrained him.

"You don't need it anymore," he told him, with authority.

"But…," the potions master made a last desperate attempt to reach into the blaze.

"Severus," he looked Snape directly in the face as he spoke. "From now on, if you have to make a choice, you can discuss it with me. We will debate all the ramifications between ourselves and you can draw your conclusion, having taken into account a completely different perspective. You must agree that it is a more thorough method of decision-making."

Looking from the fire to Lupin, then back to the fire again, Snape was in turmoil.

"But…," he tried again.

"And verbal discussion with me will leave no evidence behind for others to find," he adopted a Slytherin perspective, which met with a hum of approval.

"I suppose you are correct on that score. I have made some serious errors recently," he admitted. "Though I do not believe you will be able to give me an unbiased opinion over whether I should set up home with Dumbledore or yourself."

"That is irrelevant," smiled Lupin, carefully leading him back to bed. "This particular choice has already been made."

"Has it?" Snape looked even more startled than before.

"Yes, you chose me," he stated, matter-of-factly. "When you made your list about the most suitable father for your child. You knew all along that I was the best candidate."

Silence.

"Indeed?" At length, Snape raised an eyebrow, recovering some of his natural aplomb. Remus indicated that he should sit on the edge of the bed and followed suit when he complied.

"Yes, I am. I love you and I'm looking forward to devoting the rest of my life to raising our daughter."

"But…" he tried one last time.

"No buts," interrupted Lupin, placing a finger on Snape's thin lips. "Albus has his own fiery family now. I have you two. It makes perfect sense."

It came as something of a relief to Snape not to have to agonise over yet another critical issue. He allowed the werewolf to lean in for a lingering, possessive kiss, then to lower him horizontal and nibble at his neck, suck on his earlobes and generally worship whatever his explorations found. Snape's sallow skin tingled at every touch, making his breath hitch and blocking rational thought as he floated away on the wonderful sensations. The aggression of the wolf was absent this time, replaced by Remus' very human tender respect. It was intoxicating. Snape was not sure whether the purring sound he could hear was coming from him or from Lupin. His languid brain decided after a few minutes that he didn't care.

"That's enough," he reluctantly called a halt to the proceedings when he felt a warm hand sliding up underneath his shirt. "Not with Saskia in the room." Lupin grimaced but did as he was told, pulling the covers up over them and contenting himself with chastely stroking Snape's elegant fingers until they both began to get drowsy.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, Remus heard a muffled voice.

_Human?_

"Mmm?" he murmured back, faintly as a heartbeat.

_I take it back. The bunny-rabbit comment, I mean. You did well to claim our Mate._

"Thanks, Wolf. I know."

Severus' last coherent thought was that he had made the right choice. He imagined a life surrounded by lemon drops and shuddered.

…….

TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER.

After a hard day's wanton destruction, Saskia had finally fallen asleep standing up, leaning against the side of her new rocking-dragon, a hand-carved gift from her doting Uncle Hagrid.

Delighted by the first moment of quiet since afternoon naptime, Severus and Remus exchanged a weary look. Remus lifted the toddler up and draped her over his shoulder to carry her upstairs to bed, pausing to pick up Pookie the stuffed wyvern from his hiding place, upside-down in the - fortunately empty - potty.

Pip appeared and began re-assembling the house and its contents with her usual cheer, leaving Severus free to fetch his monthly dose of contraceptive potion from the laboratory. A small beaker of neutralising solution was still standing on the bench where he had left it earlier while researching why only the orange-flavoured Flatulent Fancies had the desired effect, for the upcoming Christmas Special range at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The sight of it reminded him that he had still not finished.

Reaching for the bottle of contraceptive, he pondered the complete failure of the blueberry Fancy. George had mentioned in passing that all of their blueberry-flavoured goods required a special artificial enhancer to ensure the recipient's tongue became sufficiently blue – Snape had rolled his eyes and recited his hourly fee under his breath as a reminder of why he suffered such nonsense. He was making a mental note to chart all the ingredients of the additive as he drank the potion and poured the neutralising solution down the sink.

Five weeks of nausea, dizziness and mood swings later, Snape was forced to conclude that in his distracted state, he must have drunk the solution and poured the contraceptive down the sink.

…….

TWO AND A BIT YEARS AFTER THAT.

The wedding reception was taking place at Bourdon Hall, ancestral home of the Dumbledore family since before records of that sort of thing began. Albus had been forced to take up permanent residence there after inhabitants of Hogsmeade, led by Aberforth, put together a petition to eject him from his village after little Promethia accidentally burned down the Hog's Head during her first flying lesson. Fawkes had almost exploded with pride, but Albus had conceded that two phoenixes in one small area was probably inappropriate.

It was a fitting location for the festivities. Albus had spent a great deal of energy enthusiastically lobbying the Ministry over the question of legalising gay magical marriage, pointing out that the muggles had done it yonks ago. The debate had been fierce, with the 'Anti' faction only caving in when Harry Potter announced his tremendous disappointment that the society he had fought so hard to protect would not legally recognise his commitment to the man he loved.

After five tempestuous years, where every row and drunken infidelity was reported in the Daily Prophet gossip column, the great soap opera which was the Potter-Wood love affair finally crash-landed at the altar. Harry was ecstatic and wept with joy throughout the ceremony and speeches.

He was currently dancing very close with Remus, while Snape and Oliver watched like hawks from opposite sides of the room. Catching each other's eyes, they smirked briefly and the newlywed Keeper made his way through the celebrating throng and sat down next to his former teacher.

"Hello, Sir," he shook Snape's hand.

"Congratulations, Mr Wood," he returned politely.

"And this wee man must be Freddie?" he addressed the eighteen-month-old, who was clinging to his Papa like a baby monkey, a little alarmed by the boisterous crowds. Snape tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to look at the newcomer, who gasped.

Even his fathers had to admit that Frederick Albinius Lupin-Snape was a strange-looking child. The unfathomable black eyes and disproportionately large hooked nose clashed startlingly with his cherubic blond ringlets. Remus assured his partner that the hair was a Lupin trait, that the colour would fade to light brown as he grew older, probably making less of a contrast with his black eyes.

However, all of these features were secondary to the enormous, beaming smile which he proudly exhibited on all but the scariest occasions. It made Severus slightly paranoid that anyone who saw it would adore the happy little boy so much they would steal him away. With Lupin's help he managed to overcome his paranoia and play the part of a calm and balanced father. Most of the time.

Freddie turned his hundred-watt smile on Oliver, who melted instantly.

"Oh, aren't you a bonny thing! Hello!" he pinched Freddie's chubby cheek.

**Say Hello, Frederick,** signed Severus.

Freddie waved a hand and smiled some more.

"Oh," Oliver looked startled. "Oh yes, I forgot about… Aren't there spells you can do?"

"Not until he's older," said Snape, falling into lecture made at the frequently asked question. "Amplificus can be used to instigate partial hearing, though casting it accurately is such a delicate matter experts believe no one but the individual concerned should attempt it. At this stage, it would be highly inadvisable. We will request a limited-power wand when Freddie reached the age of seven, by which time he will be able to cast it himself."

"So he'll have seven years of silence until then?" asked the bridegroom sadly. "Sounds tough."

The stereo was pumping fast tempo party tunes. On the other side of the room, the Puddlemere United team was shrieking rude songs about well-hung warlocks, Fawkes and various aurors were playing a drinking game which involved banging firewhiskey bottles on the table while one victim undertook some kind of noisy forfeit. Promethia was perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, preening her beautiful feathers and periodically shooting a musical trill at Fawkes which blatantly translated as 'Stop it, Dad, you're SO embarrassing!'

Snape took the whole scene in with a sneer.

"Tough? It sounds wonderful!" he sighed.

Presently, Saskia galloped up with all the guests between the ages of three and nine in tow. Each of them was displaying every sign of enjoyment at being bossed around all afternoon by the five-year-old animagus. She removed her favourite set of pink satin dragon dressing-up wings and tossed them to a minion, who evidently considered himself blessed at having been chosen for the task, bearing them before him like the crown jewels. Snape inspected him closely. A Weasley, for certain. There was no way of telling which particular one.

Saskia transformed into Cocoa the wolf to make Freddie laugh. The minions gasped and cheered while Freddie clapped his little hands together in delight at his sister's cleverness. She changed back and accepted the adulation magnanimously.

**Come and play, Freddie-foo!** She commanded. Freddie looked at Severus for permission before sliding off his lap and waddling away with the older children.

**Be careful!** Snape admonished in both signs and words. They ignored him, already intent on wreaking havoc in some poor unsuspecting corner of the mansion.

Unable to stand the sight of his new husband dancing with the ex any longer, Oliver strode over to the dancefloor and cut in. Remus bowed and graciously handed Harry over, then left the floor. He followed Snape's anxious gaze as it tracked the motley selection of children charging out of the door.

"They'll be fine," he assured his partner as he sat down beside him.

Snape looked dubious but nodded anyway and subtly took hold of Remus' hand for reassurance, as the werewolf had known he would. Snape glanced up as his palm brushed against the velvety cube nestling in the other man's grip.

"What is this?" he asked, examining the small black box. Lupin smirked but said nothing, so Snape located the clasp on the front and opened it up. Tucked inside was a gold band with a modest square-cut emerald glinting against the metal and a runic inscription of love etched on the inside.

Snape froze. Lupin shrugged apologetically and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"I'm afraid you have one more choice to make, my love," he whispered.

…….

AN: The End! Or the Beginning?

Thank you all SO BLOODY MUCH for your wonderful support throughout this fic! Your responses have been really encouraging and I feel very privileged to have so many kind people enjoying my stuff.

Should have said last time: 'Fine eyes' was Pride and Prejudice, of course, the 'unfortunate brother' was from The Importance of Being Earnest – though Duj found a plethora of other hilarious references from Google. 'Bourdon Hall' – bourdon is French for bumblebee, which of course is the modern translation for the Old English word 'dumbledore'. Excuse my inability to resist quizzes!

There will be one last post - an epilogue with a bit of an insight into how Saskia and Freddie turn out! See you then, dear friends. Love, SN x


	17. Epilogue

For the first time in fourteen years, the Lupin-Snape household was childless. Severus and Remus had loaded eleven year-old Freddie onto the Hogwarts Express with Saskia, and when they returned from the station, the house was eerily empty.

Snape lasted for five days before having an emotional episode alone in his lab and deciding that there was only one possible course of action.

Wholly engrossed in a particularly tricky chapter of his book, Lupin barely registered the door of his study opening and his husband slinking into the room wearing their favourite black silk negligee and nothing else.

"Rrrremus," he purred seductively, posing himself elegantly against a bookcase.

"Mm?" Remus replied, too wrapped up in a grammatically taxing sentence and his mug of hot tea to pay proper attention. The Secret Weapon shone like polished ebony in the evening light as Severus ran his hands through its silken tresses.

"Let's have another baby," he fluttered his eyelashes too, for good measure.

Remus frowned over a split infinitive and scratched the inside of his earhole with the end of his quill.

"Don't be silly, you're much too old," he murmured.

The silence descended like an explosion, and despite several hours of backtracking and shameless grovelling, Remus still found himself exiled to Saskia's room at bedtime. Wide awake, he gazed at one of the many posters of dragons on the pink walls and reflected that it was his own fault, really. He ought to have been paying more attention to his highly-strung husband's emotional needs at this difficult time, not stressing over his publisher's unreasonable deadline. It had been an unforgivable comment.

An hour later, when he tried to slip back into their bedroom, the door handle bit him.

The Arctic atmosphere at the breakfast table the following morning told Remus that he was still in big trouble. He was wondering whether suggesting a trip to Diagon Alley to buy a kitten to ease the pain of empty-nest syndromewould earn him a hug or a slap when help arrived in the form of two breathless Hogwarts owls, who had obviously been racing each other all the way from the Highlands. Snape snatched the two letters from them with avaricious delight.

"From the kids?" asked Remus, sitting up and offering bits of sausage to the birds.

"Of course," sneered Severus, glancing from one envelope to the other. Forgetting that he was not supposed to be speaking to Remus, he asked, "Which shall we read first?"

"Freddie's," said Lupin instantly. "I'm dying to know which house he's in!"

Severus handed the letter over and Remus called Pip to come and listen while he read it aloud.

_Dear Papa and Daddy (and Pip of course),_

_I'm in Ravenclaw!_

_The sorting was a bit scary but Fleur was in charge and she was really nice so that helped. I even remembered what you told me and called her 'Professor Weasley' not 'Fleur' and she winked at me. I think all the boys are in love with her._

_Ravenclaw Tower is so cool, there are so many books and secret passages everywhere I think I could live there for a hundred years and not find everything. And the library! It's amazing! Unfortunately first years have to leave by 8:30 every evening so we can get ready for bed, so I am always being thrown out just as I get to an interesting bit of text. But Professor Patil -she's my housemistress -says we're allowed to spend as much time as we like there at weekends, so that's OK._

_There are four of us in our dormitory. Rupert Finch-Fletchley, Devon Buzzard and Pog Jellyby, who is never called Marmaduke on pain of death. The first morning, Rupert told me he had heard Devon crying for his Mum in the night so we made sure we ran around exploring and being so busy that he got too exhausted to be homesick. Rupert says he's been fine ever since. I miss you a bit but I haven't cried._

_I met the Gryffindor ghost whose head is hanging off and you can see all the bits inside his neck. He says 'Joyful Sanitations' to you both. Or I think that's what he said, I was lipreading because I have to turn off my Ampli spell whenever I'm near Gryffindors because they are so loud. I never thought anything could be louder than Papa and Saskia having an argument but I was wrong. The Gryffs shout all the time, even when they're standing right next to each other. It's quite alarming._

_I've noticed at mealtimes thatwhen Saskia speaks everyone at the Slytherin table stops talking and listens to what she says. At breakfast she sometimes sits with her friend Dervla who is in Hufflepuff, and the Hufflepuffs all do it too. She is called Sass by everyone._

_Lessons are fun but really easy. I know the answers to all of the questions the teachers ask and I've already got fifteen points for Ravenclaw. This is good because Pog got caught with some of Fred and George'sSmokey-Noses in Transfiguration yesterday and Professor Patil took ten points, even though it's her own house. I didn't tell anyone that Pa and I helped develop them last summer!_

_Uncle Albus sent me some cockroach clusters which were disgusting so I gave them to Pog, and a nice letter which was a bit burnt at the edges because Fawkes won't let him keep an owl._

_I hope you can both come to the first Quidditch match in October – Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin so Saskia will be playing. Rupert is trying out for our team, he has a wicked broom and Professor Wood says he flies really well._

_Love you, Freddie x_

_PS I sent this with a school owl because Crosspatch got into a fight with Gwendolyn Weasley's owl Stumpy. They are both OK but sulking._

By the time Remus finished reading, he had a lump in his throat and Snape was crying into his toast, both desperately missing their clever little boy who was coping so well with being away from home. A good deal better than his parents were, in fact. He nudged the other letter forwards for his husband to read.

"Shall we see how my treasure is getting on?" he sniffed, brightening as he always did at the thought of Saskia.

Remus broke the seal to reveal a much more unruly script, looking as though the writer had only a short window in her hectic schedule for writing letters.

_Dear Pa and Dad,_

_The Brat's in a blue tie, but we knew he would be._

_He hangs around the library with three weird-looking boys who seem nice, as far as I can tell. One has dreadlocks down to his waist, one is as wide as he is tall and the other is so posh as to be unintelligible. I'm keeping my distance so he finds everything out for himself, but I have made it known in all the relevant quarters that anyone having a go at him will incur my serious displeasure. Don't tell him, for Merlin's sake!_

_I'm Deputy Quidditch Captain this year, which is great because I have some intriguing new ideas about multi-height attacking formations to try out. We're playing on Saturday 17th October if you want to come and watch, though it will be a pushover as half the Hufflepuff team (the decent half) were seventh years and left last term. I heard a rumour from Dervla that they are so desperate they might even field Tracey Longbottom! Can you imagine? Erica tried out for our vacant beater position this morning but managed to knock herself unconscious while she was still on the ground, which worked against her. That's three years running she's failed now. The dunderhead._

_Hagrid's arthur-itis (his pronunciation) has got so bad now he can't hold a quill, though he looks quite cheerful about this. He was never any good at writing. He's asked the Headmistress if I can become a sort of official Care of Magical Creatures assisstant, which is great because I can learn all about the paperwork required for interesting creatures and answer the enquiries which people send him about their unusual pets. One of his dodgy mates inStaffordshire swears there's a lame mooncalf on his brother-in-law's farm, because the patterns it left in the cornfields last month were all lopsided and not at all like a normal mooncalf._ Here she had drawn two little diagrams highlighting the difference._ Hagrid thinks I'll be a big help because of my sensitivity to the phases of the Moon, so you might be getting a permission form to sign to say I can leave school property with him and Killer. Actually, Killer is scared of the dark so probably won't come, unless we do some investigating during the day._

_Westwood-Booth called me in for the Head of House Start-of-Term chat on Monday evening. He asked very politely if I wouldn't mind trying to pay attention to some of the other lessons, not just Care of Magical Creatures. I told him I'd think about it and he gave five points to Slytherin. I know I'm his all-time favourite student because he's in love with Pa, which is probably morally wrong or something, though good for my points tally._

Here, Snape shifted uncomfortably at the memories she had unwittingly conjured of a similar situation many years ago. Oblivious, Remus read on.

_Hamish Jagger and Eyeful (do you remember her? Jennifer Tower. She was the one who messed up a Wronksi feint in the match last February and had to be dug out of the pitch,) in fifth year have started a rock band and asked me to be their lead singer. See, I am considering career options which don't involve dragons, as I promised you last week!_

_Anyway, you take care. Tell Pip we had rhubarb crumble last night but the school elves never make it as well as she does. I hope she's taking care of you two and you're not squabbling now the Brat's not there to referee._

_Love, S._

_PS Erica's family will be away for the first week of the Christmas holidays. Can she come and stay again? I promise we'll behave this time._

Pip danced at the compliment, Remus shook his head at the "referee" comment and Severus pretended to bang his head against the breakfast table at the whole letter. The adoring smile of paternal pride which blossomed each time Saskia was mentioned was fixed in its usual position, however, so the Remus resumed eating without trying to interfere.

"Do you suppose our daughter will ever open a book which doesn't refer directly to dangerous beasts?" the werewolf asked, conversationally. Snape flicked his hair back into position and considered this for a moment.

"Probably not," he decided. "Though she passes most of the other subjects without bothering to study." The smug look would have been irritating to anyone less well acquainted with the peculiar dynamic between father and daughter. Lupin fully understood the long and painful acceptance of the need to 'agree to disagree' on whether academic success was the only kind worth having. Freddie had got used to cancelling his Amplificus and hiding behind Remus as all hell broke loose in the cataclysmic days before Severus gave up trying to make her do extra reading about anything other than toothy monsters or racing brooms.

Lupin's eyes grew suspiciously misty as he remembered the years when they had all been together as a family, now consigned to the past, at least until December. The house had been tidy for an unimaginable _five days_ now - there had been no unfortunate explosions from Freddie's potions experiments, no injured wild animals found hidden under Saskia's bed, no screaming matches between Snape and Saskia inevitably dissolving into guilty declarations of fierce mutual love and cuddles, and no plaintive wails of "it wasn't me!". No wonder poor Severus was upset.

"I'm sorry I haven't been very helpful," said Remus quietly. "I think I was trying to ignore the changes by working too hard. I shouldn't have ignored you too."

Severus looked up from re-reading the letters in case Lupin had made any mistakes of content or nuance.

"No, you shouldn't," he pouted, but reached out and grasped Remus' hand. "I admit that I become unreasonable where the children are concerned. It was bad enough when Saskia left, but now Freddie is gone too I am at a loss. She said we would squabble."

"Future rock star or no, she is a very astute young witch. Perhaps we need to go away for a bit," pondered Remus, taking the pale hand in both of his own and caressing it.

"A holiday?" asked Severus, sounding interested. He leaned closer to his husband who, delighted at being forgiven, let his hands wander. Sensing where this was leading, Pip vanished with the vaguest hint of a 'pop', still beaming at Little Mistress' reference to her crumble.

"A second honeymoon," whispered Remus suggestively, nibbling on the ticklish patch on the nape of Severus' neck - one of the few areas of skin which had not been defensively buttoned away out of reach after the argument the previous night.

"You cannot _still_ be whinging because I insisted we take the children on our first honeymoon?" he asked with a lethal kind of softness. Lupin was paying attention this time and avoided the trap.

"Of course not. We had a wonderful family holiday nine years ago," he mouthed against the darker man's lips, pausing to taste him and run his fingers through the beloved greasy locks. "But this time, I like the idea of having nothing to do but lie around somewhere warm and enjoy each other."

"I suppose you will bring your manuscript," Snape sighed with resignation.

"Nope. I owled the Obscurus officethis morning to say that I needed an extension on that wretched deadline. So I'm all yours, Gorgeous."

Severus demonstrated his wholehearted approval of this development over the kitchen table, halfway up the stairs and then once again on the bedroom floor.

After the few hours of sleep which were necessary for recovering from their exertions, the writer gently ran his hands across his lover's flat chest until he opened his eyes. Remembering the conversation that had produced their current bout of morning lovemaking, Snape was wide-awake almost immediately.

"Where shall we go on holiday?" he breathed into Lupin's ear. "Amalfi, like last time? Or Koh Tao? But Greece is your favourite, is it not? What about the Dodecanese?"

Delighted that Severus was so receptive to the idea, he turned and kissed him with swollen lips, almost drowning in the bottomless black gaze of intense love and trust. It was inconceivable to think that this wonderful life might not have been theirs had Snape made different decisions.

If he had found an alternative father for Saskia, Remus might still have been sitting alone in his old flat with nothing but a bottle of firewhiskey and bitter memories for company.

If he had accepted a different offer after her birth, Hogwarts' newest boy-genius might have been called Freddie Dumbledore-Snape.

Lupin shuddered at these ghosts of roads not taken and held his husband as tight as he dared.

"You have evidently been planning this," murmured Severus, as clearly as he could while being held fast in a death-grip. "Do you have a list of places you wish to consider?"

"I don't want anything to do with _lists_," laughed Remus. He received a swift smack on the arm.

"Oh yes, you would only burn them, anyhow," he sneered good-naturedly, having maintained his photographic memory for slights, insults and outrages. "So how shall we decide where to go, my love?"

Remus melted completely at the rare endearment, concluding that he didn't really care where they ended up, as long as there was a bed and his husband. Plunging into the dark eyes once more, he gave Severus a kiss so deep and lingering that they were both gasping by the time it ended. Not just for oxygen, either.

"I'll go anywhere you like, Severus. Why don't you make the choice?"

THE END

A bit of cheesy fluff to finish!

I know I've left lots of 'issues' unexplored here – deafness in the wizarding world, magical rock 'n' roll, the complicated relationship of love and exasperation between Snape and the un-academic Saskia, the development of the RL/SS love story, how Oliver retired and ended up teaching, Freddie's gang, Saskia's loyal followers, and many others. A small matter of there only being 24 hours in a day…

And Remus never did find out about the Lucius/Lucy thing. Our Slytherin needs to have some Significant Secrets. All part of his mystique.

I am so grateful for all the kind and insightful reviews which have been written about this story, they have really helped – especially the ones pointing out things I had not previously thought about! LOL. Thank you for taking the time to read this odd little fic.

With much love, Snape's Nightie x


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